Days In the Sun
by theoriginalbookthief07
Summary: Before the storm, there is always a calm. The Avengers, rogue and regular, are determined to make the most of it before something else goes wrong. In hindsight, everything was bathed in sunshine. But while it happened, it was just life. Chronologically 10th(!) in the ChristyVerse.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! Welcome to the fluff and domestic stuff before I attempt to resolve Endgame.**

***STANDARD CHRISTYVERSE DISCLAIMER IS STANDARD* Check out my profile if you have no idea what "the ChristyVerse" means. Otherwise you might be a wee bit confused. Me and canon MCU have a love-hate relationship. So I changed a few things. Made people actually talk to each other to make up and whatnot. Please enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Get it Right on the First Try

Unlike Steve, Bucky hadn't struggled with a deep longing for his left-behind time.

Maybe it was because of his, as Sam called them, 'random freeze-n-thaws'. Maybe it was because he hadn't woken up alone, and then been lied to at first, before being thrust into Time Square.

(He was still, as the kids said, _salty_ at Fury for that one.)

But there were still little things from 'his' time that he missed. The sound of a record playing, soda fountains, and not being bombarded with information 24/7 were top among that list.

A lower-level petty thing was that all his good date spots were pretty much kaput. Or overrun with tourists.

When he had remembered that bowling was still a thing, he'd almost wept with relief.

Exactly one week ago, he had asked out Wanda Maximoff.

"Asked out" seemed such a paltry term.

He felt more serious about this than he had felt about any other dating relationship of his life. Sam said it was because he was older. Steve was feeling the same with Sharon.

Whatever happened, he wasn't in this for something casual. Provided they didn't hit any major snags or incompatibilities, Bucky Barnes was in this for a ring.

Which is why tonight, he was slicking back his hair and dabbing on cologne, getting ready for their first date.

Sam stood in the doorway of the common bathroom, smirking. "You look like such a teenager right now, Barnes. A fifties teenager. Did you get date tips from _Grease_?"

Bucky growled under his breath. "Considering I _missed_ the fifties, Wilson, I think I'm entitled to a little throwback. Besides, Wanda says it looks classy."

"I think it looks good." Steve volunteered from the hallway.

Sam shook his head. "Rogers, the only reason you aren't still dressing like a suburban grandpa is thanks to me an' Nat. Mostly Nat. Your fashion judgement is skewed."

Steve hmphed. "Thanks a lot, Sam. You're so encouraging an' thoughtful."

Bucky left his two best friends to snipe at each other and went back to primping his hair. He had started to grow it a little bit long, since Wanda had hinted she preferred it that way. It was still short, but he liked the idea of growing it to his shoulders. Such an idea would have been unheard of in his own time, but he had gotten used to the comforting weight of hair. Now that people were less on the prowl for the former Winter Soldier, it seemed a good chance to get back his mane.

He took a deep breath and pondered his reflection in the mirror.

_Man up, Barnes. She's seen you with bloodshot eyes, sweating an' screaming bloody murder after a flashback. An' she still chose you. You'll be fine. Jus' fine._

And really, that was the kicker. With every other girl, in that time so long ago, Bucky had been careful to project an image of calm control. Ironically, it hadn't been much of an act at the time. His life had been hard, but whose hadn't been? It wasn't like he was struggling just to breathe half the time, or watching his mother die, like Steve. He'd been alright.

Now, with so many inner demons to fight, everything was already laid bare. Wanda had seen his worst, and accepted it with a compassionate grace.

_So she won't care if my hair is stickin' up._

He still took one last look in the mirror. Just to be safe.

* * *

Wanda twisted strands of red energy between her fingers and around the strap of her purse, as she sat on the Barton's sofa.

_Twenty-two years old, and I finally get a first date._

In Sokovia, she had been perennially uninterested in romance. Pietro was the skirt-chaser, and she had to be the sensible sister that got him out of scrapes. Plus, there had simply been no one around that she was interested in, beyond shallow crushes.

But Bucky…Bucky was different.

_"Does the name 'Winter Soldier' mean anything to you?"_

_"Yes…the Fist of HYDRA…the one who would help bring order…"_

_ "Guilty as charged, ma'am."_

From the first day they had met, Wanda had been intrigued. He had seemed like a big brother or young uncle figure, when she was young and unsure.

And then had come the Accords.

Wanda had seen the man she'd come to care about broken back down to a hollow shell. When Pietro had suggested that she try using her powers as a form of mind therapy, she had jumped at the chance. Thankfully, it had actually worked. Bucky still battled flashbacks and trauma, and he likely always would. But so would she.

She would much rather be broken with someone than be broken alone.

A quick, nervous knock sounded on the door. Wanda couldn't help but smile.

_He's probably been anxious all day._

She had been at the Barton's house all day, and he had kept to the 'Mansion'—as Christy had dubbed it—just up the hill. The large white farmhouse was not exactly palatial, but it suited them all just fine.

"It's open!" she called out, getting up from the sofa.

The door swung open with a hesitant whine. Bucky was framed in early evening shadow, tugging nervously on his jacket.

"H-hey, doll." he sputtered, trying to keep a grin on his face. Wanda had assured him she found the old-fashioned endearment cute, not sexist.

_"I know you are not so foolish to think I am actually a doll."_

Wanda smiled. "Ready to go? You have the car?"

"Yeah, I got Steve's Dad Car. It's not the swankiest thing, but it beats walkin'."

"Your accent is coming out again."

Bucky blushed. Steve's Brooklyn always came out when he was angry or tired. His came out when angry, too, but also whenever he was trying to be, in Wanda's words, 'a boy'.

"I thought you said it was cute." he fired back.

Now it was Wanda's turn to blush.

Fortunately, they were saved from too much time lost in each other by Laura poking her head into the living room.

"Oh, hi, Bucky. You two have fun!"

The idea of someone else watching and potentially teasing them was enough impetus for Bucky to take Wanda's hand and lead her out to the car. He opened the passenger door for her, tipping an imaginary cap.

"M'lady."

Wanda squealed and quickly ducked inside the car. "Stop! You're making my face red!"

"I'm makin' your face red? Is that it? Do I really have enough power t' make th' Scarlet Witch scarlet?" Bucky crowed, settling behind the wheel.

In answer, Wanda smacked him with an energy tendril.

"Ow!"

"You deserved that." she returned coolly.

"…yeah, I did. Still worth it. Ow! Not so hard!"

* * *

"So you roll the ball and knock down the…what did you call them?"

"The pins." Bucky repeated, as they entered Hebron's only bowling alley. It was full of teenagers trying to play and elderly grandparents in leagues who actually knew how to play.

"And you want to push over them all?"

"Yeah, or as many as possible. The person with the highest score at the end wins. If you knock over 9 at once, it's called a spare. If you knock over all ten, it's called a strike.

Wanda repeated the words carefully as they approached the counter. Bucky quickly paid for two hours of play before she could even reach for her wallet.

"I have money…" she said shyly. "We do not have to…"

Bucky frowned. "You not like it? Nat said girls sometimes get offended, these days…"

"No, no! It's nice. Just…" she blushed again, cursing herself.

"…how 'bout you buy us both ice cream, huh?"

Wanda nodded. "That is fair." She glanced at the shoes. "We have to wear these?"

"Yeah, otherwise you're gonna slip on the lane. See how slick it is? They gotta keep it smooth for the ball to roll well."

They carefully put on the signature ugly shoes of all bowling alleys, before heading over to the rack of balls.

"So, you pick the one you can lift best. Lighter is easier to throw, but heavier means you can knock down more."

"Will you throw with your metal arm, then?" Wanda asked. "Isn't that cheating?"

"Is not! They made it so's I can't lift more than I would with th' other…you're teasing, ain't'cha?"

Wanda gave a sly grin. "You are not the only one with a cute blush. The Winter Soldier, brought low by a pretty girl."

Bucky growled. "Pick yer ball."

Wanda slowly tested each of the brightly colored balls until she found one that she could lift, but not too easily. Bucky did the same. They finally headed over to the lane they had been assigned.

Unfortunately, they were now fixed with a problem.

"I, uh…" Bucky mumbled, staring at the electronic scorekeeper. "I don't…we didn't have…"

Wanda decided to save time and flagged down a worker. "Excuse me, we haven't been bowling in a while. How do you work this?"

The teenaged employee patiently worked them through the rigors of entering their names. "So, see, they show 'em on the board, an' your score for each round. Your name will flash when it's your turn to go."

"Thanks, kid." Bucky said gratefully. He slipped a five dollar bill into the boy's hand.

"Sir, I don't…it's my job!"

Bucky grinned. "I didn't always have a lot of money. I like to spread it around. Don't question it. Buy yourself a soda."

"Thank you, sir!"

"Don' mention it." He turned back to Wanda. "Alright, let's take this slow to start. Remember how I showed you to throw."

"Yes. Pull your arm back far, then come forward." She mimed rolling the ball.

"Just like that. Keep your wrist straight."

Wanda gazed anxiously down the long lane. "It is so far. I won't do it right."

"Hey now! Don't worry about that. Everyone screws up at first. It's a hard game to master! Want me t' go first?"

"…yes, please."

Bucky moved to the front of the lane, watching in fascination as the mechanical arm set up all the pins. "It's so smooth…" he whispered, before shaking himself and getting into position.

He drew back his arm and let the ball fly down the polished wood. It hummed a bit in the air before crashing down and rolling into the pins.

"Eight!" Bucky cried happily. Wanda hugged his arm.

"Very good! You can get a strike, maybe?"

"Mm…not so likely. See how the two pins are at opposite ends of the space? That means it's hard to knock them both over. The only way to do it is a fancy move. I'm not that good…"

Sure enough, Bucky's ball was not bowled at quite the right angle to allow one pin to knock at the other. But it still managed to get one.

"Spare!" he said triumphantly. "Okay, now your turn, doll."

Nervously, Wanda stepped up to the edge of the lane.

"Nice an' easy. Pull back…you want some help?"

Usually, Wanda hated to ask for help. Even from Pietro. She liked handling things herself. But now…

"A-a little…" she whispered.

Chest puffed, Bucky leaned against her slightly and took a light grip of her arm.

"Pull it back, straight wrist…now, go forward!"

The ball wobbled forward down the lane, knocking down five pins.

"Not a bad start! An' they're all in a clump, see?"

Wanda nodded, sizing up the angle the ball would have to roll. As soon as the machine fed the ball into the waiting area, she grabbed it and carefully pitched it down again.

Four pins slowly wobbled to their doom.

"Hey, look'a that! A spare an' a spare, all tied."

Wanda nodded, a big grin spreading across her face.

"I bet I can get more points than you." she said deviously.

Bucky did a double take, and then gave her an equally big grin. "Oh, you're on, doll!"

* * *

Bucky still won, just from sheer experience. But Wanda put up a fight the entire game.

In between their two paid rounds, they ordered overpriced nachos and Cokes from the concession stand.

"These are pretty good." Bucky said, around a mouthful of chips.

"Yes. I think I can make this at home. Laura makes tacos but these are also good."

Bucky took a sip of his Coke. "So this was your first time bowling?"

Wanda nodded. "I don't think we had this in Sokovia, and I had not been in America yet. Did you go many times before…before the war?"

"Some…usually on dates. Sometimes with Steve. He could barely lift the ball, though." Bucky gave a wistful smile.

"Was it strange? When he was suddenly strong?"

Bucky frowned, staring down at the garish carpet. "I, well…yeah, it was strange. Mostly 'cause the first time I saw him like that, I was strapped to a table an' all woozy from HYDRA drugs an' torture."

Wanda pretended to contemplate a chip. "Why did they want you, then? Was it because you were attached to Steve?"

"Huh? Oh, no, back then, that didn't matter. Steve was still jus' doin' propaganda shows. He wasn't…he wasn't a 'real' soldier. He hated it. That's part of why he came after me. He wanted to prove that he was someone; that he was worth it. Even though he'd been worth it from the minute he was born."

"He was always such a…a good person?"

"Well, he wasn't a saint. Never has been. I could tell you some stories…"

"Please!" Wanda cried. "I want to know what you both were like, before everything."

Bucky gave a soft sigh. "Truth is, we're no one special. If I had to pick two people to survive all we've survived, I sure as hell wouldn't have banked on us. We were just a couple boys from Brooklyn."

"…we weren't anyone special, either. There were many orphans in Sokovia after that bombing. But somehow we got lucky. Or unlucky…"

Wanda drew her knees up to her chin in the chair and hunched forward slightly.

"Wanda? How did you an' Pietro end up with HYDRA?"

For a long minute, Wanda didn't say anything. Finally, she spoke up in a whisper Bucky had to strain to hear.

"We were in an orphanage, when our parents died. It was a…a sad place. No one was cruel on purpose, but no one cared much for us. We were left to ourselves all day. Food was bad. And when I was fifteen, Pietro overheard another boy saying that he wanted to…that he was planning…." Wanda dropped her head.

"To…hurt you?" Bucky said hesitantly.

Wanda gave a bitter, hollow laugh. "Is that how you say it?"

"…it's one way." Bucky put his arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, doll. Sorry…God, what a jackass kid. What a world."

Wanda sniffed slightly. "Pietro said we had to leave. Said we could get jobs. But after three years, we were nowhere. Then, Pietro started to come home later and later. He said he was making friends, friends that cared about our country, that wanted to take revenge for the countries that treated us like nothing. I warned him not to do anything foolish. But I was angry, too…so I went to one rally. Then, another. It was at one that we met a man who said he could help us."

"An' that didn't seem suspicious at all." Bucky deadpanned gently.

Wanda gave a sad, half-laugh. "We should have known it was too good to be true. But we were poor, and angry, and desperate. And he promised us revenge. Two weeks later, we went to Strucker's lab. We didn't leave for a year and a half, until the Avengers broke the base open."

During the story, Wanda had moved closer and closer to Bucky. Now, she rested her head on his shoulder in near exhaustion.

"Thank you." he whispered. "Thanks for tellin' me all that."

Wanda shrugged. "We should not have secrets. And I am tired of keeping mine."

Bucky brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Me, too. I'm such a mess, though. Feels almost criminal, t' be so screwed up."

Wanda touched his cheek. "You are a fugitive." she teased.

"Not anymore, thanks to Tony." Bucky sighed. "I can't believe I killed them. I can't believe we're actually on speaking terms."

"He knows it was not something done in your right mind. Deep down, he knows. But it hurt him to know the first time."

"Believe me…" Bucky whispered. "If I could take it back…trade their lives for mine, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Wanda frowned. "But you cannot. And you are alive. The dead are honored best by a good life, not more death. I had to learn that the hard way."

Bucky gently ran his hand over her hair. Wanda gave a pleased little shudder.

"I know." he said finally. "It's just hard, sometimes. To live with the guilt an' the 'what-ifs'."

"I have them, too. We can help each other."

"Yes, please." Bucky said, pulling her back against his chest. He let out a small sigh. "These chairs are entirely too uncomfortable to cuddle you properly."

"Cuddle!" Wanda cried, mock offended. "On the first date?!"

"W-well, I guess I just….um, well…"

Wanda stood up. "Come, we still have another game. If I win, you buy me the biggest ice cream I like. If you win, you get your 'cuddles', _ti vojniče_.

Bucky _grinned_. "Soldier boy, huh? You're on!"

* * *

"But _how_?!" Bucky cried, staring aghast at the screen.

The score was not in his favor.

Wanda looked like the cat that not only ate the canary, but barbequed it before consumption as well.

"You would have done better if you were not so cocky." she said. "You twirled and then let the ball go. More than once."

"If I had just had one more shot…fine. Let's get you ice cream."

They ended up at a Dairy Queen, where Wanda ordered the biggest Brownie Blizzard she could.

Bucky got exactly the same size, but with mint Oreo.

They sat in the car, happily enjoying their treats. Wanda was still flush with success.

"This was nice…" she whispered.

Bucky nodded, turning down the jazz music coming from the radio. "Good first date, for you?"

Wanda smiled. "Well…there was one little thing."

"Oh yeah?"

Wanda ducked her head. "In movies, the boy always walks the girl home. And then kisses her."

Bucky's gaze was fixed firmly on the steering wheel. "You wan' me to do that."

"Well…yes. But one small difference. I do not want to wait until we are home."

Bucky carefully set down his Blizzard.

"What, now?"

Wanda nodded. "Unless you prefer to wa—"

She was cut off as Bucky quite plainly showed that he was not, in fact interested in waiting a second longer.

**_Now_**_ this is a first date._

* * *

**_Man_ have I missed writing these two! I love Bruce and Natasha, but writing someone besides them romantically is breath of fresh air!**

**Drop me a line, tell me what you think. Reviews are Dairy Queen blizzards.**

**Tune in next time for the long anticipated wedding of Tony and Pepper. There will be tears! Laughter! Shenanigans! Possible fainting! See you all there!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone. Hope quarantine isn't driving anyone too bored. Though I suppose a boring quarantine is probably the best-case scenario in this current state of affairs.**

**I promised a Stark-Potts wedding and I SHALL deliver...but not this time. I am trying to keep these one-shots chronological and that chapter fits in further down the line. So this is instead covering events in Spring of 2017, and involves everyone's favorite Sorcerer Supreme! I hope this brightens your spirits, whoever and wherever you are.**

* * *

Chapter Two: Avengers React- Doctor Strange

Peter Parker was currently trying to pretend that he was annoyed at Christy Rogers.

It wasn't working.

"I can't believe you're dragging me all the way down to Bleeker Street, just so you can find places in a book!" he grumbled over the roar of the subway.

Christy smiled, unfazed. "C'mon. It's not like you had any better plans."

"I was going to work on the Lego Deathstar s'more with Ned…"

"Exactly. No better plans. Besides, I'm only here for a weekend! I need to be in the city!"

Peter dropped his facade. "Okay, okay. You miss it so much? All the traffic an' noise?"

Christy made a face. "Not the traffic. But...I miss how close everything is. I don't feel alone here. I like living in Hebron, but it's so quiet, I sometimes feel like the last person alive."

"Well-you're here now. Still alive. Don' worry." Peter smiled at her. "We'll find your bakery."

Christy thumbed through a well-worn copy of _Cornelia and the Audacious Escapades of the Somerset Sisters_. "The bookstore they talk about isn't open anymore. I saw on GoogleMaps. But the bakery place is! An' we can look at the bookstore, anyway. Maybe bust in with webs?"

Peter huffed. "No way I'm breaking in somewhere with spider powers!"

"C'mon, pretty please?!"

"No way, kid!"

The subway lurched to a stop at their station, and they got off the subway, stepping up into the bright, cold February daylight. Christy shivered and put her gloves back on. Peter shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Brrrr." he muttered. "Let's find this bakery and go inside."

Christy fumbled with the smart phone Steve had finally allowed her to get. "Um...says we gotta walk two blocks this way."

"Then let's go, it's freezin'!"

"How do you swing around at night if you're such a wuss about cold?" Christy said accusingly.

"The suit has thermal heating! And you're shivering too!"

"You wanna stand here an' talk, or walk?" Christy asked, starting in the direction of the bakery.

"Wait up!" Peter called, hurrying after her. "You're always so fast. You sure I'm the one with superpowers?"

"I don't need super powers!" Christy yelled triumphantly over the brisk wind. "Aunt Tasha and Uncle Clint don't have super powers. Uncle Tony doesn't even have any. His power is his brain."

"I guess that is true." Peter said. He thought of all the times he had seen Tony Stark overwhelm someone with the sheer power of words and charisma.

The wind was blowing hard, enough that both of them soon had runny noses and teary eyes. Peter was about to say they should stop into a nearby MacDonalds when he heard a loud _thump_ next to him.

He turned just in time to see Christy enveloped in a red _something_ and hear the girl screaming bloody murder.

"Get off me; get _off _me!"

The red thing smacked into Peter, too, and soon they were both tumbling straight against the side of a building, down a nearby alley.

They were thankfully out of the wind. Christy grabbed on to Peter, almost whimpering in shock. It was times like these that Peter remembered just how young Christy really was.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." he whispered, grabbing her tight. "I gotcha. Let's see what we got here, huh?"

Christy nodded, peering up at the giant red thing now floating just in front of them.

It was a cloak. An honest-to-goodness _cloak_, hanging in the air, almost looking ashamed of itself. If cloaks had feelings.

"The hell…" Peter muttered, eyes wide. Since the whole spider incident, he'd learned that many things he'd thought impossible were actually possible. He lived in a world with aliens, gods, billionaire geniuses, and supersoldiers that came back from the dead.

_Yeah, sure, a magic cloak, why not? Why not?!_

"Language." Christy said, straightening up and walking towards the cloak. She cocked her head. "Is this magic?"

The cloak bobbed enthusiastically in the air, its top moving up and down in what could only be a nod.

"Where are you from, magic cloak? Can I call you Cloaky?"

In answer, the cloak spun around in a dance of joy, before dipping one of its' corners in a mud puddle nearby.

"Uh, Mr Cloak, I dunno if your...owner would want you to get dirty…" Peter trailed off, before seeing that the magical garment was clearly attempting some form of written communication.

"Christy…" he said hesitantly.

Christy gasped in shock. "Yeah, it's writing! That's a number! 177...oh, an address! 177 Blee-Bleeker! Bleeker St! Do you live there, Cloaky? Can you show us?"

The cloak swirled around Christy and settled on her shoulders. And then lifted her in the air.

Christy screeched. Peter also screeched and grabbed at her arm. "Hey, let her down!"

The cloak turned toward him. If it had eyes, it would have been looking straight at him. It flicked its corners up.

"Peter, it knows! It knows you can climb walls an' stuff!"

"How the hell does this cloak I've never seen before know that I have spider powers?!"

"Because it's a magic cloak! I think it wants to take me to the address, and it wants you to follow!"

"That's insane-" Peter started, but the cloak was once more flailing up and down in a nod. "Are you serious?" he asked, addressing the garment.

In answer, the cloak shot up far into the air, with Christy still securely fastened in.

"Alright, alright!" Peter screamed, fumbling with his backpack. "Christy, shut your eyes an' lemme get this stupid suit on! I'll follow you, I guess!"

"_How do I always end up in these situations?!"_

* * *

Dr. Steven Vincent Strange, Sorcerer Supreme and Master of the Mystic Arts, was not having a good day.

"Wong?! Where is my Cloak?"

Wong glanced up from his copy of _War and Peace_-he was enjoying the variety of books for sale in New York City, as opposed to Kathmandu.

"And why should I know where that foolish relic is? Haven't you figured out it has a mind of its own?"

Steven grumbled slightly-although he would never admit to grumbling, he was too _dignified_ for that. Wong smirked behind his book.

"You don't think it could have gotten outside the sanctum, do you?" Steven asked, after a pause.

Wong shrugged. "Anything is possible."

Muttering something under his breath about "damn Eastern mystics," Steven headed to the rooftop garden.

Wong went back to his book.

* * *

Peter had more or less gotten used to swinging across buildings and keeping his balance. His speed and agility had drastically improved with all his practice. But this magic cloak was giving him a serious run for his money.

It seemed used to being worn, and also used to keeping a person in the air. He was still petrified that Christy was going to fall out at any moment and go ker-splat on the sidewalk.

That was a conversation he did not want to have with Cap.

Finally, mercifully, the cloak touched down in front of a massive, stately building. True, New York was home to many such buildings, but this one had a very odd vibe. Peter couldn't help but notice the giant, circular window at the very top that peered out like a lidless eye.

Christy was sputtering and retching onto the pavement, so Peter forgot the creepy eye window and went to help her.

"T-that-that...how do you do all that?" Christy stammered out. "A-all the swinging? I-it l-looks so easy!"

Peter patted her back. "I just practice lots, that's all. You're okay. It's different when you're the one calling the shots an' steering. Take a deep breath."

Christy took several shuddery breaths. The cloak, to its credit, hung near her nervously.

"She's okay." Peter told it. "Next time maybe a little more steady in the air, huh? Humans aren't used to flying."

The cloak bobbed up and down, acknowledging the advice, and then curled around Chisty like a blanket.

"Good cloak." she whispered.

At that moment, the front door opened. A man of average height, with a thin face and greying brown hair was frowning at them.

"Do you children need some-oh."

Three pairs of eyes converged on the cloak. The man sighed deeply.

"I suppose you're wondering about that."

"It's a magic cloak." Christy mumbled. "Right?"

"Er...yes. A magic cloak." The man sighed again. "Against my better judgement, would you like to come in for an explanation?"

Christy looked warily up. "Are you going to wipe our brains so we don't remember seeing it?"

"...I was not planning to."

Peter shifted awkwardly. "W-we can just leave. It's fine, really! Enjoy your cloak, sir!"

"No, no, it's really too late." The man seemed vaguely annoyed, but also determined. "You ought to know. Especially considering who you are."

Christy jumped back and Peter looked highly nervous.

"W-what d'you mean, sir?" he stammered. "We're nobody."

The man scoffed. "Please. You're that spider kid that was all over the news back in April. It might help if you take off the suit."

Peter blushed, glad that the mask was hiding his face.

"As for you…" The man looked at Christy, who was wearing her best determined scowl. "I don't know exactly who you are, but there's been plenty of press about a child in and out of Avengers Tower for years now. Generally accompanied by Captain America, the current king of avoiding the press."

Christy scowled harder. Her existence was less an out-and-out secret now that she was getting older, but she still didn't like the idea of just anyone knowing who she was.

"And who are you, since you seem to know so much about us?"

"Dr. Steven Strange."

Christy and Peter glanced at each other. Peter just shrugged.

"Never heard of you."

The man looked fully annoyed now. "I was the top surgeon in New York!"

There was a very awkward pause.

"...maybe I remember you from science class?" Peter tried valiantly.

Strange gave a look of pure disgust. "Oh, come in. Bring the cloak while you're at it, since it seems to like you."

Peter and Christy scampered up the stone stairs and followed Strange into what felt like a fortress.

Upon entering, both their jaws physically dropped.

"Woah!" Christy cried. "What is this place?"

"The Sanctum Sanctorum." Strange said proudly. "Home to the Sorcerer Supreme. That would be me, by the way."

Peter was glancing wildly every which way, trying and failing to hide his rising glee. "Is all this stuff yours?"

"Since I am the Sorcerer Supreme, yes. This house is mine, and everything in it is technically mine to use. But some of the relics are...touchy."

"What does a Sorcerer Supreme _do_?" Christy asked, still wrapped in the cloak.

"Magic." Strange said simply.

"So...card tricks?" Peter asked. "Pulling doves out of a hat?"

He hoped if he played dumb, the man would give them more information out of sheer annoyance. That always worked with Mr. Stark.

It worked. Strange huffed. "No, not card tricks, Mr. Parker. I can sever your reality and break it into pieces. I can make portals to another dimension. I can bargain for the universe and win. I can stop time with my little finger…"

"And the Eye of Agamotto." came a deep, deadpan voice.

Wong stood at the top of the second-floor staircase, arms folded and a slightly amused smile on his face.

Strange's eyes darted up and back. "Naturally, with a bit of help from some of the magical artifacts."

"A _bit_ of help?" Wong muttered.

"I did study! You're the one that said I was born for this!"

Wong descended down the stairs and handed a mug to Strange. "You must forgive him, he hasn't finished his Oolong. It always makes him cranky."

"What's Oolong?" Christy asked.

"Just tea." Wong explained. "Sometimes with a little honey."

Strange rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like 'copycat'.

"So, uh, Mr. Dr. Strange...sir." Peter said, pulsing with excitement. "...can we look around?"

Strange pinched his nose. "Don't touch anything."

"Take nothing but the lamp." Christy whispered.

"We don't have any lamps. And you couldn't touch them even if we did." Strange corrected.

"It's from a movie, sir." Peter said, in explanation.

"Aladdin, correct?" Wong asked.

Both children gaped at him.

"You watch Disney movies?" Christy cried.

Wong snorted. "No. I saw it on Broadway last month. The costumes were stunning."

Strange was visibly backing towards a nearby sitting room, clutching his tea like a protective shield. "I don't want any confrontations with Steve Rogers or Tony Stark. So don't die. Otherwise, have fun."

He shut the door with a click.

"He seems...nice." Peter said uncertainly.

Wong chuckled. "He is a good man. Just not good with people. Come, I'll show you the highlights."

* * *

In the end, Christy never did get to see Magnolia Bakery. But she decided that a private tour of the New York Sanctum was a fair trade.

Wong was a patient guide, and once he emerged from his cocoon of Oolong and solitude, Dr. Strange was a fount of knowledge on all the various relics.

"The Daggers of Daeveroth were used in ancient times to attack enemies stealthily. They can be manipulated with the mind, and are quite small, leading to ease of transport and attack."

"Imagine what Aunt Tasha could do with those things!" Christy hissed to Peter, who nodded, wide-eyed.

He pointed surreptitiously at the golden and emerald amulet worn around Dr. Strange's neck. "Wonder what that thing does?"

"This _thing_, Mr. Parker, is the Eye of Agamotto. It can turn back time and even stop it all together. It is also unique in that it will not respond to any commands that use black magic. It-er, tests the heart of the wearer."

"So you are really a good guy." Christy said. "Just a grumpy one."

Dr Strange rolled his eyes. "Should I clown around like Tony Stark?"

"A-actually, you remind me a lot of Mr. Stark." Peter said. "I-I mean, you both pretend like you really couldn't be bothered with anything, but then you actually are. Bothered with everything. And trying to make it better."

Wong guffawed into his robe's sleeve. Strange stood with a look of almost surprise, an uncommon emotion for the Sorcerer Supreme.

"...would you like tea?" he asked finally.

* * *

"So…" Peter asked, later that afternoon. "Are we telling anyone about this? I kinda feel like this is a thing that you tell people."

Christy shrugged. "Dr. Strange already knew about us, and about all the Avengers. He's a wizard. Uncle Tony probably knows about him, and Uncle Nick, for sure. We can probably just keep this to ourselves. The grown-ups will figure it out eventually."

Peter snorted. "The grown-ups?"

"They are! And I am a kid. As much as I wanna get taken seriously…" Christy paused. "I-I also wanna stop growing up so much? Does that make sense? Nothing has been easy and things get even less easy when you grow up. I dunno if I'm ready."

She looked sad and small, drooped over in the wind, with eyes already old and wise.

Peter nodded, also with eyes already old and wise. "I get it. It makes sense. We've both had everything go wrong. But also lotsa stuff go right, yeah? An' no matter what, we're here for each other. That's what the Avengers are for."

He put his arm around Christy and pulled her close in a side hug. She hugged back.

"You feel better?"

"Yeah…"

"Good, then let's get back to the Tower before Mr. Stark yells at us both."

* * *

Steven Strange gazed out of the Agamotto Window at the two small figures headed towards the nearest subway station.

"What are you thinking of?" Wong asked quietly.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Wong almost thought he hadn't heard him, and was about to repeat the question, when the Sorcerer Supreme spoke in a barely-audible whisper.

"The Universe is not finished with those two." he gave a mirthless laugh. "In fact, it has barely begun."

Wong nodded slowly. "There is something unique on them both."

"Something is coming. I don't know what, but I can sense it. And they will be in the middle of it. I know that much."

"We will be ready." Wong shifted. "Watch and train, it is all we can do."

"Keep vigilant." Strange echoed, feeling the Cloak of Levitation settle around his shoulders.

The Eye of Agamotto, better known as the Time Stone, pulsed quietly in its protective covering.

* * *

**Ominous foreshadowing is ominous. As usually. Ominous foreshadowing is my favorite.**

**Tune in next time for a man out of time, a SHIELD agent, and a newly-twelve-year-old at a gun range. **

**Reviews are Oolong tea in the New York Sanctum.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Happy Star Wars Day! May the 4th be with you! Enjoy a sort of early Mother's Day chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 3: Summon All the Courage You Require

It wasn't every day that you turned twelve years old. So naturally, Christy wanted something extra special. Steve had been prepared for this.

"A shooting range?"

He had not been prepared for _that_.

Christy sighed. "I've been training since I was seven, why does wanting to go to a shooting range surprise you?"

Steve had to think a moment before answering.

"I suppose...it was just unexpected. I thought you'd want a trip or a party."

Christy fidgeted. "You already said I could stay with Tally next weekend. But I really, really want to do something with you. And Sharon. And I thought...well, we all like guns."

"I don't like guns, I punch things and fight with a shield, where did you get the idea that I liked…"

Steve stopped. Christy was sporting the Blue Puppy Eyes of Doom (™), as Sam called them.

He had no chance.

He sighed. "I can call Sharon and see when she's free."

"Yes!" Christy cried, fist pumping in excitement. "I can't wait! You're the best dad ever!"

She flung herself at him. Steve caught her just in time, laughing a bit.

"I am glad you like Sharon." he said finally. "I'd hoped you two would get along."

"Are you going to marry her?"

Steve sighed again. "I don't know, baby. Is it bad that I'm almost scared to marry her?"

"Well, considering your last romantic relationship...I don't think so."

Rolling his eyes, Steve added, "I don't think anything bad would happen, not really. I just...don't know if I would be any good at being married."

"You didn't know you'd be any good at being a dad." Christy said quietly. "And you still took me."

Both were quiet, remembering those long-ago days when they had first met.

"I was lonely." Steve murmured. "You don't even know how much, I think. Everything was so strange and scary. But you were something good, someone I could think about besides myself and how sad I was."

"And now Sharon is, too! And she's nice and funny and she teases you like Sam and Uncle Bucky do. Even though she won't be...she won't be my mom."

The last was said uncertainly.

Steve caught the change in tone and steered her to the couch.

"You sure about that?" he asked.

Christy whimpered softly. "I-I said I didn't want her to be my new mom. B-but…"

Steve waited patiently.

"I like having a mom. And sometimes I pretend she is." Christy looked up, her eyes bright with tears. "Is that bad?"

"No!" Steve said vehemently, rocking her a bit. "Not at all! It's normal, wantin' parents. You've heard the Twins, they call Clint 'dad' and Laura 'mom'."

"But at least they have different words for it. So it feels like for a different person. If I started calling Sharon 'mom'..." Christy bit her lip. "It feels wrong."

"...think about it. And do what you want. Sharon is perfectly happy either way, and I know she loves you." Steve paused. "And even if you don't call her 'mom,' it doesn't mean she won't be."

Christy was quiet for a while, thinking that over.

"Dad...can I ask you something else?"

Steve braced himself emotionally before answering, "Sure."

"...can I have a pistol?"

* * *

"Yeah, I have off on Saturday, nothing major happening with work. I can meet you guys! Can you send me a message with the address of the place?"

Steve nodded, before belatedly remembering how phones worked. "Uh, yeah, yeah, of course. Christy will be real excited."

"I'm glad." Sharon's voice was warm and light. "You know she's messaging me now."

"Really?"

"You don't know who your own daughter is messaging?" she teased. "Steve Rogers, shame on you!"

"I watch her!" Steve protested. "She has SafeSearch on her phone an'...AddBlock. She doesn't have...Clock-Tik, or Twitter…"

Sharon stifled a laugh. "...you mean Tik-Tok? Good. She doesn't need it."

"Tik-Tok. Whatever." Steve grumbled.

"Oh, come on, like you didn't have any dangerous fads growing up!"

"There was flagpole sitting." Steve admitted. "And trying to put a goldfish in your mouth. And stuffing into phone booths."

"See!"

"We didn't eat cleaning chemicals, though." he muttered defiantly.

"Yes, yes; kids eating Tide Pods is dumb and immature, sir." Sharon said in a patient sing-song.

"You'll have to answer for those words, _Agent_." Steve snarked back.

_Damn Hamilton._

But then, Sharon giggled, and all his petty annoyance vanished.

"So Christy messages you?" he asked. "That's nice. I'm worried sometimes, her growin' up with mostly guys."

"Don't." Sharon said firmly. "You did just fine being raised by a single mother."

"That's true. But there were times I felt like something was missing. My Ma was a saint, but she couldn't be two parents at once. Guys would have their dads take them to play ball, go fishin'. I used to wish I could have that."

"Christy's not hurting for female influence. She's had Natasha around for forever, and now Wanda and Laura and Pepper."

"And now you."

Sharon paused briefly. "I always-I never understood how people could just...adopt a child, and they would feel like their own. I always wondered, wouldn't there be a disconnect? But now, I look at Christy and I just...it feels perfect."

"Doesn't it?" Steve whispered.

"I mean, let's be practical, it helps that she physically looks like she could be our child. But she's also just a fun little person. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to remember we're not all a family yet."

"Yet." Steve said, voice laden with suggestion.

"Is that a proposal?" Sharon asked, amused.

"...it's a hint?"

"Aren't proposals supposed to be secret?"

"I've always been bad at lyin'."

Steve's drawl was very thick. Sharon shook herself hard.

"Your daughter?" she reminded.

"Oh. Yeah.' Steve said sheepishly. "She's happy t' see you on Saturday. Really likes you."

"Then I'll be there. Just remember to send me the address, _Captain._"

"I'm not that forgetful, _Agent_. See you Saturday."

* * *

Saturday was sunny, bright, and brisk. Christy was so excited, she barely managed to swallow her chocolate-chip pancake breakfast before she and Steve piled into the van to drive to the range.

"Are you so excited to shoot things?" Steve teased, starting the ignition.

"Not the _shooting _part...okay, kind of the shooting part." Christy fiddled with the seatbelt. "I just want to practice with Sharon. She's really good at shooting. I want to have something in common with her."

Steve patted her shoulder. "I know, princess. She'll be happy you're trying to bond."

"Can I be Radio?" Christy asked.

"I really don't know why you call it that." Steve replied, turning onto the road that led to the main highway. "You don't even play the radio, you play your phone."

"Radio sounds better than 'play music on phone person'." Christy stated, as though it was very obvious. "You wan' old stuff or new stuff?"

Steve shrugged magnanimously. "Whatever you like, it's your birthday."

Christy scrolled through her song list for several minutes, before smiling deviously and saying, "Old. Here." She then plugged the phone into the connector cable.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "What did you find?"

"You'll see!" Christy said cheerfully. "I like this one."

She tapped the screen, and the brassy sound of trumpets and Bing Crosby poured out of the speakers.

"_Lay that pistol down, babe_

_Lay that pistol down_

_Pistol-packin' mama,_

_Lay that pistol down…"_

A fond, nostalgic smile spread over Steve's face. "Bucky used to sing that to Peggy, whenever she was around."

Christy started out the window, trying to imagine the cool old lady she had briefly known as a young, determined Agent.

"I bet she didn't like that."

"Nah, she always swatted at him. Called him a gadfly. Those two used to fight like siblings, when they weren't conspiring to make me sleep."

"That sounds like what Sharon and Uncle Bucky do now."

"Yeah…" Steve's smile turned a little wistful. "I'm glad they get along."

Christy looked at him oddly, and then asked, "Dad, will you always miss everything so much?"

Steve sighed. "I don't miss everything to the same degree. It comes and goes. Sometimes it's just...I wish I could show you things. Other times it's an angry missing, when I don't like how something is now. And sometimes it's grief."

Christy was quiet for a moment, staring back out the window.

"...I miss mom like that, too."

Steve patted her shoulder gently. "I know."

"Do you ever stop missing?"

The music played on, the song having long changed. But father and daughter hardly noticed it.

"I don't guess so." Steve finally whispered. "I guess you just find other things to love."

That made Christy smile. "I guess so, too."

* * *

At the Adirondack Shooting Range, Sharon met Steve and Christy in the parking lot.

"Ready to fire?" Sharon asked, after giving Steve a hello kiss on the cheek and turning him cherry-red.

"Yeah!" Christy enthused. "Can you teach me?"

"Hasn't Natasha showed you some things?"

"A few…" Christy scuffed her shoe against the pavement. "But I want you to show me."

Sharon smiled. "Then I will." She glanced at Steve. "Do you even know how to shoot?"

"I went through Basic!" Steve protested. "Just because I prefer to use a defensive weapon doesn't mean I can't shoot!"

"Alright, alright...so touchy."

The accent was firmly American, but the tone was pure Peggy. Steve could feel his heart thump faster.

"You should make a bet." Christy said slyly.

Sharon gave a devious smile, before shaking herself. "No, sweetie, this is your day."

"You think watching my dad and my...almost stepmom be competitive isn't entertaining?" Christy asked, crossing her arms.

Steve and Sharon shared a speculative look.

"Are we on, Carter?"

Sharon tossed back her hair in a way the made Steve inhale very sharply.

"Oh, we're definitely on, Rogers. Right after I teach Christy how to kick ass."

"Language!" Steve protested feebly, as they entered the facility.

Once inside, they rented the appropriate handguns. Since they were all going for body shot practice, they decided on pistols. It took them a bit of time to find something light enough for Christy to use.

"Are they going to hurt?" she asked, as she practiced aiming the empty .22 pistol.

Sharon shook her head. "This type has light recoil. It wont hurt your wrist. You just need to brace for it."

"Okay."

They stood in the lane together, Steve watching from one lane over.

"Now, how do you bring it up to shoot?" Sharon asked.

Christy held the pistol pointed down by her side, and slowly drew it up in one fluid motion.

"Good girl. Where do you aim?"

"A little above where you wanna hit." Christy parroted obediently, as Natasha had drilled into her.

"Good, now let's try some aiming before we load it, and get you used to the weight. Remember to hold with both hands, this isn't a movie."

Christy practiced aiming several more times until Sharon was satisfied.

"Now, we can load. Watch me very carefully."

She opened the slide and loaded in a single bullet, before re-opening it and taking the bullet out.

"Your turn." she said.

Christy's eyes were wide. "I-I haven't...I never actually loaded the gun before."

"Well, happy birthday, you get to learn." Sharon grinned. "Focus now. Keep the pistol pointed downrange, always. Always from you. Now, open the slide

Christy tried, unsuccessfully at first, before getting it to open and close neatly "Done."

"Alright, now here's how you load the ammo." Sharon had her practice loading a single bullet into the chamber.

"Can you show me how to put in more?"

"Later. I want you to master this first. Always know exactly how many bullets are in the gun. And always check if its loaded. Always."

Christy nodded seriously and loaded the pistol.

"Now, hand it to me, put on your safety goggles and headphones."

Christy did. Sharon carefully handed back the pistol.

"Now, lift up to aim."

Slowly, shaking, Christy lifted the gun.

"Point it at the target. Close one eye, aim a bit higher than the target so there's room for gravity and error…"

Sharon was hit with a wave of nostalgia as she uttered the familiar directions.

"_Like this Aunt Peggy?"_

"_Exactly so, my darling girl! Now, keep your arm steady, love. You can't waver. Summon all your courage, breathe deeply, and pull. Always stay steady…"_

"S-summon all the courage you require…" Christy whispered.

For a second, Sharon wondered how Christy had read her mind, before realizing what she was quoting.

"Summon all the courage you require." she repeated. "Get ready. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Ten paces, steady…"

"Fire!" Christy pulled the trigger.

The bullet shot high and wide, but it made it onto the paper body.

"I got his shoulder!" Christy yelled, pure joy on her face. "Sharon did you see…?"

"Point the pistol down!" Sharon cried, grabbing the girl's shoulders. "Yes, I saw!" she added, in a much more excited tone. "That was good work. Now let's try with some more bullets loaded in. But always remember…"

"Keep the pistol pointed down…" Christy repeated, grinning sheepishly.

* * *

By the end of two hours, Christy had progressed to actually hitting the heart twice, and hitting several other 'fatal' areas. Some of her shots went wide or low, but she still clutched her body paper happily.

"Aunt Tasha will like this. So I really do need a pistol now, right Dad?"

Steve groaned and looked helplessly at Sharon.

Sharon shrugged. "I'm not much help. I had a knife at twelve and a pistol at fifteen. But my family had a lot of gun nuts and my dad went hunting."

Christy went to the restroom, and Steve took advantage of the moment to talk freely.

"It's not that I don't think she's mature or responsible…" he whispered. "Or that she hasn't been trained. I do! But...ever since I adopted her, it's been a running joke that she'd be the next Cap. Obviously, when she was little, it was easy to brush off. But now…"

"Now she's older, and she has a role model who's not far from her age, and it's getting harder to make excuses." Sharon finished.

Steve sighed. "Peter's a great kid, and Tony's been watchin' him. But I don't...I've tried for so long to keep her _away_ from all this stuff! And then she goes and asks for a pistol!"

"If it makes you feel any better, it's probably not an unreasonable request, given the kind of people you hang around. She sees Nat, and Clint, and even Bucky with guns and thinks, 'ooh, that looks cool!'."

"But what should I do?" Steve said, desperation spreading over his face.

Sharon placed her hand on his shoulder and guided him onto a bench. "What scares you so much about it?"

"...I don't want to lose her. And I don't...I don't want her in a war."

Steve's gaze unlatched and Sharon knew he was staring back decades, into the hills and fields and forests of Germany.

"I've seen what war does to kids." he continued. "Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen...hell, we had a fifteen year old that lied about his age to join. War is hell for everyone, but it's hell for kids the most. And in this century, wars aren't...they aren't defined. There's no beginning or end. They just...keep happening. I've read them all. Korea, Vietnam, Gulf War, Afghanistan, Iraq…"

"She wouldn't be a soldier, Steve. Not like that."

Steve laughed, tonelessly. "Not like we're any better. Show up, punch some things, leave a city in rubble, go home."

Sharon glanced up very quickly to make sure Christy wasn't coming back. And then she held Steve's face so she could look him full on.

"Steven Grant Rogers, I love you, but shut the hell up."

Steve's eyes went wide.

"You do not, and I quote, 'show up, punch things, leave a city rubble, and go home'. Technically yes, but also no. Isn't that what the Accords were about? That may be what governments think, but the people you save know better. You are _heroes_. Christy doesn't want to be like you because of the damage caused or the hellish parts of battle. She doesn't understand them all, not yet. But she understands enough. And yet she still wants in because she knows you fight for something greater than yourselves. Sure, she's a kid. Sure, she's naive. But she's not stupid. If she trains, maybe becomes an Avenger someday…then you will have done your job to leave the world a safer, stronger, _brighter_ place then how you came into it. And for that, you will be a hero."

Steve stared at her for a long moment, blue eyes full of earnest pain and hope. "You mean it?"

"I mean every word."

Christy wasn't sure why they were kissing when she came back. But the air was still charged with so much love, she knew that even this prime blackmail wasn't the sort to take a picture of.

* * *

"Girls rule and boys drool!" Christy cried happily, looking between Sharon's near-perfect body paper and her own.

"I'd like to see you handle the shield." Steve muttered to Sharon.

"No thank you, Captain Spandex, I'll stick to the shadows and my trusty pistol. But not bad, for your first shot in seventy-six years."

Leaving Steve sputtering inelegantly, Sharon went to the counter to pay for their sessions. "My treat." she assured over her shoulder.

"Did I really do a good job?" Christy asked quietly.

"You did phenomenal for a first-timer! Now, where does the birthday girl want to go for a meal?"

"Mm...can we go to the barbecue place I saw coming here?"

"Let's find it, and you got it, kid."

After they located the place Christy was talking about, she asked, "Dad, can I ride with Sharon over there?"

Steve clutched his chest dramatically. "Abandoned by my own kid!"

"Dad!"

Steve laughed. "It's fine, baby. See you two there."

They got in Sharon's sleek, silver Volkswagen, which Christy oohed and ahhed over appropriately.

"Dad says he likes the van, but it's so big!"

"It's not technically a van, though it is big…"

"And clunky."

Sharon laughed. "A bit clunky. Awkward but dependable. And immaculate inside."

"...are you saying Dad is like his car?"

"Maybe. So, twelve years old, big milestone. Almost a teenager!"

Christy frowned. "I don't wanna be a teenager. Everyone makes fun of teenagers."

Sharon shook her head. "They do, because no one wants to admit that everyone does silly things when they're young. It's easier to pin the blame on the next generation."

"...I don't want to be obsessed with my phone and rude to Dad."

"Then _don't_." Sharon put her hand on Christy's knee. "No one gets to tell you what your adolescence is like. Be polite, be empathetic...be whatever it takes to make yourself a better person."

"Sharon?" Christy glanced down as though the floor mat was suddenly interesting. "C-can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"...remember how I said I didn't really want a replacement mom? Or to call you mom?"

Sharon nodded, slowly. "I do."

"...I kinda do. I-If you marry dad."

For a moment, the only sound was the wheels on the road. Trees slid past on either side, but time seemed very still.

"Let's be honest." Sharon said quietly. "I'm going to marry your dad."

"I saw his browser history on his laptop. He was looking for rings."

In spite of herself, Sharon blushed slightly. "S-so no ifs. Do you want to call me 'mom'? I don't think it's a bad thing. Your mom wouldn't be mad."

"...I tried thinking 'mama'. But it doesn't work. It doesn't feel natural."

"...you think it over. You do what you like." Sharon paused, before adding, "But I would be pleased to have you for my daughter."

"R-really?" Christy's eyes were very big.

"Of course! You're a sweet, caring, smart girl. A bit sassy, but I can work with that."

"Uncle Bucky says you have to be sassy to be an Avenger."

Sharon snorted. "What else does Uncle Bucky say?"

"That you remind him of Aunt Peggy so much sometimes, he wants to salute."

"Barnes better salute me." Sharon muttered, smirking.

Christy's hand inched across the center console. Sharon's moved to meet it.

"I'm going to be around." Sharon said quietly. "I mean it."

Christy nodded and leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes.

"Thanks, Mom." she said softly.

* * *

**When I was young and first started to write, I never tried writing many mother-daughter relationships. I actually had a horrible penchant for writing dead mothers. But I'm older, and I understand more than ever how important moms are. Especially my own. **

**I'm excited to write more of Sharon. She was done really dirty by the MCU but the more I research the comics, the more I see how cool she was. She and Christy will have more moments together, especially going into my next story. So let me know what you think of this.**

**Reviews are bulls-eyes.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, everyone.**

**Next on the docket was SUPPOSED to be "everyone reacts to Spiderman: Homecoming events. But then a thing happened this week, and this chapter, which has been growing in my mind ever since I saw Black Panther the first time, came screaming to the forefront. I knew I had to write this. If you're American, you will probably know what I'm talking about.**

**Disclaimer: I've tried my best to write everything as sensitively as I can. However, this chapter touches on some hard things. Please know that my motivations for writing were to make people think and talk and listen, not fight.**

****I edited the chapter title. Partially for aesthetics's sake...I didn't want one of the deepest things I've written offset by a clickbait title. Especially after this past week.**

* * *

Chapter 4: The Earth Cannot Bear Up

"Does my hair look okay?" Tally asked, smoothing down her current hairstyle of elaborately braided cornrows.

Christy looked over from brushing her own hair. "You look fine. At least your hair doesn't tangle. Can you braid mine like that?"

"I've told you, your hair's too thin. Maybe a stylist could do it. I gotta ask mom. I can braid your hair a different way, though.

Christy threw down the brush immediately. "Please? You know I can't braid my own hair!"

Tally sighed in pretend exasperation. "Sure. C'mon, sit on the bed."

Two weeks ago, Steve had gotten a call from none other than T'Challa and Shuri, stating that they were in the country and wanted to come for a visit.

Christy had told Tally, and both girls had begged and pleaded for her to come visit for the week. As if the stars had aligned, it was also Spring Break, so Tally's parents had blessedly agreed.

"Tell me about Wakanda again." Tally said, as she started dividing Christy's hair into bundles.

"It's got more tech than America." Christy said, obediently repeating the stories she had told her friend a thousand times. "It's got jungle an' mountains an' plains. Vibranium is in everything. The food is really fresh and good...lots of plants an' meat. I tried cassava for the first time. An' there's four tribes that have all their own traditions. T'Challa an' Shuri live in a palace that makes the Tower look like nothing…"

* * *

"My friends!" T'Challa cried, exiting from his jet. Shuri followed eagerly behind them.

"This is quite the change from the city…" she said happily. "So green."

"Welcome to Upstate New York." Bucky said, giving the Princess a friendly hug. She had helped him a lot with his new arm.

Christy surged forward. "Umzala!" she cried, giving the king a huge hug. "I'm so happy to see you!"

"You as well, omnicini!" T'Challa smiled broadly, before noticing the unfamiliar girl standing shyly to the side. "And who is this?"

"This is Tally." Christy said proudly. "She's my best friend in the whole world!"

Tally waved awkwardly. "H-hello, um...Your Highness?"

T'Challa waved the title away. "Please, none of that. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Tally looked up at the man in awe. "Are you really a king?"

"I am." T'Challa chuckled, before his face turned slightly solemn. "Narrowly, but I am."

"Narrowly?" Christy asked, worried. "Did something bad happen?"

T'Challa sighed. "Let's go inside. We have much to discuss."

Once inside, it took a good thirty minutes to sort out lodging and put everyone's luggage away. Steve had already ordered pizza, so all of the inhabitants of the Mansion (twins included) sat down to eat and talk.

"So, your coronation had some issues?" Bucky asked.

T'Challa shook his head. "The coronation was fine. It was good that we postponed it and mourned. Everything went off without a hitch. And then, everything went wrong."

Slowly, sadly, he told the story. Of Ulysses Klaue and of a cousin forgotten and angry. Of the hurt that revenge caused.

Sam whistled. "Man...I can't believe you almost died."

Shuri took his arm. "We are very protective of him now."

T'Challa looked misty-eyed. "It was good that it happened, despite the pain. We were too complacent. Too sure of ourselves and too selfish with outsiders. Now, we are trying to make amends. We have been where our cousin once lived. We are working with my...my friend, Nakia, to start outreach programs.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Your _friend_ Nakia?"

Bucky snorted. "If she's your friend, I'll eat my arm. When are you two getting together?"

"She is more the one holding out." Shuri said, annoyed. "I have tried to convince her she would still be able to do great things as a queen, but she likes her freedom."

"I wish she could be here." Christy said. She had met Nakia a few times and liked her; the spy reminded her of Aunt Tasha.

Tally was eyeing Shuri's kimoyo bead bracelet. "What is this made from?" she asked.

Shuri smiled. "Vibranium, of course. Would you like to try it on?"

"Can I?"

In answer, Shuri slipped the bracelet on her wrist. Tally shifted it around slightly.

"It's so smooth...it's made of the same thing as Mr. Steve's shield?"

"Exactly the same. We use Vibranium for everything in Wakanda."

"...do you have any pictures?"

Shuri gave a wicked smile. "Even better. Would you like to see our plane? And some things on the plane?"

Both girls squealed out a yes, so Shuri casually slipped them away outside. It made her happy, the way American children appreciated their technology.

Five minutes later, Tally felt like she had entered heaven. Everything was smooth, sleek, and shiny, yet also comfortable.

"And you guys just hide all this stuff by pretending to be poor? That's amazing!"

Shuri smirked. "Isn't it? Although we do not pretend anymore. Not since the press conference...not since everything. We thought it was better to come clean. Now we can help."

"Christy said you have a lab. Do you have pictures of it?"

Shuri's smirk got even broader. "I have this." She grabbed a phone and scrolled through apps, before finding a video.

"This was of T'Challa testing new improvements I made to his Black Panther suit. I had a little surprise for him…"

* * *

"I must ask you a question, my friend."

Sam glanced up as T'Challa entered the living room. Shuri was close behind him, nervously messing with her sleeve.

"Shoot." he said, gesturing for them to sit.

They did. T'Challa laced his fingers together.

"It is about my cousin." he began slowly.

"The crazy one." Sam added, with a little encouraging smile.

T'Challa's anxious posture relaxed a small amount. "Yes, him. He said something very strange. I told you how he died. But before he did, I offered him a chance to begin again."

"And he didn't take it."

"No. He said…" T'Challa closed his eyes. "He said, 'bury me in the ocean, with my ancestors that jumped from the ships, because they knew death was better than bondage.'"

Sam took a long, deep breath, an angry frown on his face. "Ah. He went _there_." He shifted, and asked quietly, "Would you have locked him up?"

T'Challa looked troubled. "He would not have been let off with nothing for instigating a coup d'etat! But I could have worked something out. He would have needed to make restitution. But not by death, certainly not by bondage! That does not make restitution."

"Naturally. An' that makes sense. I'm thinking...well, I'm thinking a lot. But why are you asking me?"

"You are like us." Shuri answered bluntly. "But also American. My brother-and I-we want to understand. How does someone like Killmonger-"

"N'Jadaka." T'Challa interjected softly.

"...fine, N'Jadaka. How is he made?"

Sam closed his eyes.

_No pressure, Wilson. Just attempting to explain American race relations for the last…ever._

"First, what he said," he started, finally. "do you know what he was referencing?"

The siblings looked at each other for a minute. Shuri shrugged. "Slavery?"

Sam fought the urge not to clap his hands sarcastically. "Yes. Slavery. The Trans-Atlantic Trade, they called it. Taking captured people from the west coast of Africa, shipping them worse than cattle across the ocean. To North America, but mostly to the Carribean. Thousands died. The rest got slavery as a reward for living."

T'Challa's eyes were wide with horror. Even Shuri had no quip to spare.

"You didn't know about this!?"

"I...I knew of slavery." T'Challa whispered. "But Wakanda always isolated itself for a reason. And we are far to the East."

For a moment, Sam let himself dream of a world where people had the luxury of only 'knowing of' slavery. Then, he spoke again.

"This is the pain, the historic trauma, of a whole, huge group of Americans. People that look exactly like you. We were stolen. Had our history and families taken. Things have changed since those days, of course...many good things have happened. But the hardest change is in the mind of men. We still have work to do in that department. This is the world that made Erik Killmonger."

"But surely…" Shuri looked helpless. "Surely it is not the same now."

"As back then, no. Obviously, slavery got abolished, Civil Rights happened...lots of things did change for the better. But like I said, there are people that keep the same attitudes and ideas that made it possibly for slavery to exist. It's the same thing that happens the world over. People get drunk on power. They like feeling important. They want someone to blame for their problems. So they go for the outsiders. It makes things keep being unequal. And sometimes, people still die."

"Police shootings." T'Challa whispered. "I have seen."

Sam nodded. "And years ago, lynchings. People so stuck on hate, in a society that counted our voices as less…an' a lot of times still does."

"Then why live here?" Shuri asked.

Sam quirked a smile. "Some people asked that, way back when. And still today. But it's not like we could just pack up an' go back to Africa. We aren't African anymore, not in that sense. We're American, for better or worse. This is our country, too. As for me, I'm not leavin'. Especially not after seein' Wakanda."

T'Challa leaned forward. "Explain."

"...Remember Tally's face when you showed her the bracelet?"

Shuri nodded eagerly. "It was the same in Oakland. They could not believe our technology. One boy asked if we were aliens."

Sam laughed. "Some of that is just that you guys have better tech. I seem to recall Christy freaking out, too. But for Tally, and those kids, it's probably another level. Maybe they don't even realize it's there, but they're also thinking...wow, people like me made all this. There is more out there than I've thought my whole life. Maybe I can be great, too."

He glanced away, indicating it wasn't just children who had thoughts like that.

"You are great." T'Challa whispered, leaning forward to clasp the man's hand. "You are a man of integrity and compassion. I have talked with Steve. You became a superhero because he _asked for your help_. You did not have to do it, but you did. There is no greater man than that."

Sam looked down, blushing a bit. "I dunno…"

"If you do not, then I do." Shuri said, stridently. "Christy never shuts up about you. 'Sam did this, Sam did that, Sam talks to me when I have nightmares.' All before Steve broke into the raft, she was so anxious to have you back. She adores you."

"I adore her right back." Sam said.

All three of them looked at the stairs as Steve walked down. "Hey...uh, am I interrupting something?"

Sam shook his head. "We were discussing race relations in America."

Steve's eyes got very wide. "Oh! Uh...I can leave."

"No, stay." Sam replied, thumping the seat next to him on the couch.

Steve warily approached the couch. "I don' have much to say…"

"Then listen."

Steve nodded. "I will."

"You say to show children what they are capable of." Shuri continued. "We want to start initiatives in Oakland. What would you do?"

Sam shut his eyes to think.

"Ah...connect with already existing programs in the area. There's bound to be lots. Learn the city stats, what kids need most. A kid can't aspire to greatness on an empty stomach, or if they're worried that mom can't pay the rent. Start small, build trust. Maybe begin with havin' a drop-in center, for after school. Give kids a safe place to go. Are you familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy?"

Shuri looked very puzzled, but T'Challa nodded. "I know it."

Sam found a picture on Google. "See, at the bottom are physiological needs. Food, water, rest, etc. Then, safety needs. If those two levels aren't secure in kids, they can't move to the levels here. Community, esteem, self-actualization...it won't mean a damn if they don't know they're safe an' taken care of. Some will already be just fine in that regard. Some won't. If you're gonna start anything in that city, be in it for the long term."

Both royals looked rather stunned, but nodded gamely. Steve looked like he was drinking in every word.

"So, to sum up…" T'Challa continued. "I asked how my cousin became the man that took over my country. The man so filled with hate. I am grateful for what you have shared already. Do you have any other thoughts?"

Sam nodded. "One other thing. An old Proverb. When you first told us what happened, I couldn't get it out of my head."

He looked at Steve and whispered something. Steve nodded and after a minute, came back with a large, black leather book. Sam flipped expertly through its pages, finally pointing to one section of text.

"'_Under three things the earth trembles;_

_under four it cannot bear up:_

_a slave when he becomes king…"_

"A slave when he becomes king." Sam said, in his best 'I'm about to school you all' voice. "Now, you might think, what's so bad about a slave becoming king? Good for him, right? But the thing is, a slave is not trained to rule. Obviously. And a slave, given power, with no one to guide or help, will tend to seek revenge on the ones he was mistreated by. Understandable. But it doesn't make for a good ruler."

"N'Jadaka was no slave." T'Challa protested. "Unless there is something you aren't telling me about your country."

"No, people are idiots, but I'm pretty sure slavery was actually abolished in 1863." Steve said, daring to speak up only on a safe, historical subject.

Sam acknowledged the comment with his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Yeah, it was. But it sounds like your cousin still had the mindset of a victim."

"He was a victim, a victim of a foolish mistake…" T'Challa bowed his head.

Sam nodded. "He was. But he didn't have to stay that way. Lots of crappy things happen to lots of people. It doesn't mean you have to turn into a terrible person. He kept a victim's mindset, an' when he got power, he didn't know what to do with it. So he lashed out."

"'The earth cannot bear up…'" T'Challa repeated the quote softly. "I would have helped him."

"I know." Sam sighed. "It's too late for him. But there's a lot of people it's not too late for. I know you guys are all about hiding. But maybe it's time to come out of the shadows. For all our sakes."

T'Challa stood up abruptly. "Thank you, Sam...you have given me a lot to think about. I think I am going for a walk, to think. Shuri?"

Shuri's eyes were clouded. The teenager looked far more solemn than usual. "I think I will work on something. In my room, if that is alright?"

"I'll tell Christy to stay out." Steve assured. "I think she and Tally are at Clint's anyway."

Both nodding gratefully, T'Challa and Shuri drifted out of the room.

Sam metaphorically wiped his brow. "_Damn_. I was _not_ expecting that one…"

"Are you alright?" Steve asked, forehead knit with concern.

"...yeah, I am. I feel lighter. I don' talk about that stuff too much...it felt good to do it."

There was a long pause. Then, Steve whispered, "M-maybe you could do it more?"

"You want to talk?"

Steve leaned back against the couch. "I pretty much kept my mouth shut on every race issue at first." he said slowly. "I figured some things would have changed. I mean, a col-_black_ guy was in charge of SHIELD! That was...new. So I just read and studied and listened to the news. At first, I was ecstatic. I must have watched the 'I Have a Dream' speech ten times on replay. But after a while...I just got sad. I thought people would be better. But there's still so much hate."

He laid a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"That's why I say we need to talk more. I want to know what my friend is thinking. Maybe I won't understand it all at first. But I want to know."

Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'd like that."

"You're always there for us. Have been from the beginning." Steve's eyes were bright. "If I haven't said it before, _thank you_. I am...proud beyond measure to call you my friend."

"Someone has to keep you guys sane." Sam replied, a tiny smile on his face.

"Sam...has anyone ever…?" Steve, for once at a loss for words, gaped helplessly.

Sam took pity on him.

"I keep my hands on the dash if I get pulled over. I've gotten some weird stares when I've taken Christy places. That usually gets solved by her hugging me repeatedly and tugging on my arm to see something."

Steve nodded, a faraway look in his eye. "Let me know...tell me, tell Bucky. We'll do what we can." He shook his head. "I didn't think I'd ever have to resurrect Operation Screw 'Em All. Bucky will be overjoyed."

"Dare I ask?" Sam queried, raising an eyebrow.

Steve almost smiled. His eyes were very far away now.

"You know the Commandos weren't the most_...orthodox_ of choices for a special unit. An' two guys in particular always stood out. Gabe Jones an' Jim Morita. We had a pact-Bucky came up with the name-that if the rest of us got asked any questions by reporters or others that indicated something was 'wrong' with them being on our team, that we would play dumb. We wouldn't answer, or we'd derail them with some stupid anecdote. We made sure they were always at the center for press photos. Made sure the world couldn't write them out."

Sam snorted. "That, I think, is the most you an' Bucky thing I've ever heard."

"Would you like us to resurrect it?"

Sam considered.

"Yeah." he said finally. "I would. Wouldn't mind takin' the piss outta some idiots."

"Bucky always said, if I had to look like the Nazi poster-child, I might as well use it."

Sam did a double take, really _seeing_ his friend's appearance, before cracking up hysterically.

Steve grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Blond hair, blue eyes, _Ubermensch _physique. Terrifying."

The sound of loud giggles made them both look out the window.

Christy and Tally were currently engaged in a game of 'let's imitate the Princess Bride by throwing ourselves down a hill'.

"As-you-wiiiiish!" Christy screamed dramatically.

"I blame you." Steve said, as the scream faded.

"What?"

"You showed her that movie."

Sam folded his arms. "It would have been criminal not to. That is a great movie."

Steve moved to the window to watch his daughter and her best friend.

"I didn't even think about it…" he whispered, watching them.

Tally was definitely black. Christy was definitely white. And neither of them cared.

"It gives you a little bit of hope, y'know?" he added. "That someday people won't care at all. In any way."

Sam moved to the window.

"_Oblivious to look and word_

_They pass, and see no wonder_

_That lightning brilliant as a sword_

_Should blaze the path of thunder…"_

The words blazed through his head, like a promise.

"Someday, maybe." he echoed.

Steve placed his hand on his shoulder. "What would you say is the best revenge, then? On...everything?"

That, Sam could answer. He had decided what he believed long ago.

"Love." his smile turned bittersweet. "'I've decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.' I won't ignore things, I won't pretend everything is fine. But I will love."

Steve nodded back.

Love was indeed the most powerful thing in the world. It was love that had driven him and the other Commandos to protect their comrades from scorn. It was love that made Christy and Tally best friends. It was love that made T'Challa want to right the wrongs of the past.

"Love, it is." he whispered.

* * *

**Sam's quotes at the end are from "Tableau" by Countee Cullen, and of course, Martin Luther King, Jr.**

**I feel a bit like Sam, having written this. I knew I wanted to address how Steve and the other Commandos would have handled the racism of the day in a fic. This gave me the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.**

**Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are love.**

**See you next time for a more light-hearted look at Spiderman: Homecoming events.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello, everyone, I am finally back! Apologies for the long wait in-between. I've been watching the MCU Spiderman movies in preparation to write this. It reminded me how much I love this character.**

* * *

Chapter Five: Avenger's React-Spiderman: Homecoming

_It's Peter_

_Parker_

Peter stared at the rambling screen of text. Happy, of course, had never answered a single one. Except for that one time he had butt-dialed.

With a long, heavy sigh, Peter finally snagged an open seat and clicked on a familiar message thread.

_He still won't text me back._

It took a minute, but Pietro finally sent him an answer.

_I tell you before stop throwing your time_

Peter couldn't help but smile.

_Dude, it's WASTING _ _your time. _

_You really hate idioms don't you?_

He could feel the grumpy through the phone with the response.

_No matter_

_But still, stop_

_He is busy and you not need him_

_But Mr. Stark said he would call me!_

_Someone would call me._

_You are kid. Go to school, have life._

_Be glad you are not Avenger yet._

Peter felt like punching the subway wall. Even Pietro didn't get it! He wasn't Christy or one of Hawkeye's kids. He was young, sure, but he had actual powers. He was ready for more than just returning lost kids and helping old ladies cross the street.

_But I can do it! I already do it!_

Pietro's message back was a long time in coming. The three dots hovered on the screen for a number of minutes.

_It is hard to be kid. I know. :( _

_Stark is ass sometime. But he care. _

_You do good things for your home. That also important._

Peter bit his lip and nodded slowly.

_But I feel so stuck. Like my life will never begin._

_When it finally begin, you gonna be ready?_

The subway train pulled into the station and announced his stop. He hurriedly exited. He had a long afternoon of being a Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman.

Pietro was right. His city needed him, even if it was just for little things. Queens was his home, his place to protect.

_I'll be ready. Gotta go, thanks for talking._

_Always, štene. Good luck._

* * *

Five hours away, Pietro looked down at his phone and shook his head.

Wanda glanced over. "Who are you texting?"

"My spider name-twin." Pietro grinned, and then shook his head again, switching into Sokovian. "He's pissed at Stark because he thinks he's treating him like a little kid."

Wanda scoffed. "He is a kid."

"And what were we doing at fifteen, huh? Running away from the orphanage, surviving on the streets? Fifteen year olds are tough."

"This is different. He has family and goes to school. He is not in danger."

"But he is different. And he knows he is different. He has a Stark suit, but he stays home. Double life is hard."

Wanda sighed. "I can tell Steve. See if he can talk to him. He idolizes Steve."

Pietro snorted. "Everyone idolizes Steve."

"Steve understands being underestimated. He can encourage Peter probably better than anyone. But if you ask me, Tony is still guilty about Germany."

"I could have told you that. And I don't think the kid should be an Avenger, full time. But maybe some time spent with us. To remind him he's not alone."

Pietro nodded. "I think so. And I will keep talking to him. He needs a mentor. A young mentor. Not an old, bitter, sarcastic billionaire."

"No, just a young, bitter, sarcastic, poor boy."

Pietro let out a cry of wounded pride and lunged at his sister.

Ten seconds later, he was suspended in midair, cursing his horrible reflexes.

Laura poked her head in the living room. "Wanda, honey, put your brother down. Bucky's at the door for you."

Pietro let out another cry as he was dropped, unceremoniously, onto the couch. Wanda streaked out of the room.

"At least you don't have a sister, kid." he muttered at his phone, smiling, despite himself.

* * *

Peter lay sprawled across his bed, unable to bring himself to move.

He couldn't even go take a shower like May had asked.

_I lost the Stark internship._

If only it was as simple as that. If only it was just a work internship he had lost.

_If you're nothing without the suit, you shouldn't have it._

He curled up into a frustrated ball.

"But I need it…" he whispered. "I need it. I know I'm not just Spiderman….but it's not just a suit. I have powers now. You don't get it, Mr. Stark. You can take off your suit. But I can't take off my powers."

Miserably, he scrolled through his messages. He ignored the five thousand from Ned and one from MJ (that was odd; he didn't think she cared enough to text him).

He scrolled without thinking, until he came across one very old message thread.

_Hey, kid. If you ever need to talk, I'm here. One city boy to another._

Peter breathed out slowly and started to type.

_Mr. Captain America? Sir?_

_I don't know what to do._

_Mr. Stark took the suit from me._

_I was trying to stop a bad guy. But I messed up._

The message sat there, unread, for twenty painful minutes. Long enough for him to take a shower and assure Ned that he was alive.

And then his phone rang.

It was a Messenger call, so he was unable to deny who it was. But it took his numb brain several seconds to process the bare facts.

Steve Rogers was _calling him_.

He answered just as it stopped ringing.

"U-uh, h-hello, Mr. Cap, sir…"

"Hey, kid."

Yes, that was definitely Cap's voice. He knew it very well from all the school videos.

"Sorry to bother you." Steve continued. "I know you young guys like to text, but…I like to talk out serious things."

Peter nodded dumbly, before remembering he was on the phone.

"O-oh, yeah, sure, no problem. Just, uh, can we talk quietly so my aunt doesn't ask questions?"

"Sure. So Stark took your suit? What happened?"

Peter took a deep breath. "...there's this guy I've been tracking. Well, it's-it's a bunch of guys, but they all have a leader. And they're dealing in stolen weapons. I tracked some of them on the Staten Island ferry, but…"

"I saw." Steve interrupted gently. "It was all over the news."

"...I also disabled all the stuff Mr. Stark put on my suit to keep me from using everything."

Steve chuckled. "Oh, Tony…"

"W-what?"

"Tony...doesn't play by the rules, despite all that mess with the Accords. He does what he thinks is right, and damn the consequences. And now that he's responsible for someone...it's all getting thrown in his face."

"...is Mr. Stark _scared_?"

"Terrified."

Steve's voice didn't waver in the slightest. There was no hint of sarcasm or joking.

"R-really?"

"Kid, Tony's my friend. I care about him and respect him. But he is the biggest nervous wreck I've met in my life. He just does a good job of hiding it."

"He...he said that if I died, it would be on him."

Steve sighed. "He's still guilty about Germany."

"I told him it's fine! Why does everyone keep bringing that up? I was fine!"

"We keep bringing it up because Tony recruited you, a fifteen year old kid, who had no business being involved in our petty issues." Steve said bluntly. "He had no reason or cause to do it, and he knows that. You were dragged into a fight because Tony wasn't thinking straight and wanted another warm enhanced body to shake us up."

"...oh." Peter knew he sounded very young and very squeaky, but he couldn't quite care.

"He's trying to make up for that, now. He wants you to be better than him, to not fall into his pitfalls."

"But Mr. Cap, sir...what do I do now?"

Steve paused, and then answered: "You want my honest answer?"

"Uh...yes, please?"

"Get some rest." he chuckled. "Bucky's glaring at me right now, because I'm being a hypocrite, but I mean it. Get some rest, get up tomorrow, eat breakfast. Go to school and actually pay attention to your surroundings. Talk to your friends. Be alive where you are...because you never know how long it's gonna last. And you'll miss it when it's gone."

From anyone else, Peter would have felt cheated. But this was _Captain America_.

"You mean it?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do. I'm not saying give up on hero work, but I am saying, take a break. And I'll talk to Tony about the suit."

"Y-you will?"

"Promise. Take care of yourself, okay, kid?"

"I-I will. Thank you." he paused a minute, and then whispered, "Mr. Cap?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"...am I still Spiderman? Without the suit?"

"What does it mean to you to be Spiderman?"

Peter couldn't think for a minute. He had never thought of it before, what it meant to be Spiderman.

"I-I guess it means to be a hero. To help people and do things, even small things, to save the world."

He could feel Steve's smile through his voice. "Then you'll never stop being Spiderman. With or without the suit."

Peter breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you...I knew that, I guess. But it's nice to hear it. And you...you get it. You have powers in your body. They can't go away."

"No, they can't." Steve replied quietly. "But the powers don't make you a hero. Heroism starts in the heart. If all it took to make a hero was a cape and a cool name and a tragic backstory, any huckster could be a hero. But it takes more. It takes sayin' yes when everyone else says no, and being brave when you want to be scared, and being humble enough to admit when you make mistakes. That's what makes a hero, Peter. And that's why you'll always be one."

Peter could feel his face growing warm. "Thanks, Cap…" he said. "Well, um...I should get some sleep. Tell Christy an' Sam an' Bucky I say hi."

"Will do. I mean it, Parker, get some rest."

"Yessir. Good night."

"Good night."

Peter ended the call and lay back on his pillows, breathing slow, deep breaths.

Cap was right. He had been so focused on what he couldn't do, he'd missed what was around him. His friends, his school, his aunt...all the reasons he became Spiderman in the first place.

What was the good of being a hero, without people to fight for?

Tomorrow, he would have to go to school and face the music with...everyone. But that was okay. Cap's words were still stuck in his mind, surrounding him like an invisible suit of armor. He was glad he had talked to the Avenger.

Tomorrow, it was time to live up to what Cap believed him to be. What Mr. Stark wanted him to be.

For the first time in a long time, he felt completely at peace.

* * *

Despite telling him to get in the car after turning down an offer to be part of the Avengers full-time, cooler heads (Pepper) had prevailed. Peter would be staying the night at the base.

Which meant that a lot of questions were being asked. He was under orders from Tony to "spill everything".

"Well, so, my prom date's dad turned out to be my nemesis..."

Tony scoffed lightly. "You really do have the worst luck ever, kid."

"Tell me about it." Peter leaned back in his bar stool chair and took a long sip of Coke. "You sure I can't have a beer, Mr. Stark?"

Tony appeared to contemplate the idea for a moment.

"No." Rhodey said flatly, from his oft-occupied Lay-Z-Boy. "You are not drinking your high school crush woes away on my watch, Parker."

"Seconded." Pepper replied. "May would kill us."

"She probably wouldn't…" Peter managed to squeak out, before a combined death glare from Pepper and Rhodey stopped him dead in his tracks. "But I shouldn't."

"Is there a biological reason that young humans do not drink alcohol?" Vision asked curiously.

"Ah...sort of?" Rhodey said. "It's more a legal reason. But also it makes you...drunk, if you're not used to it."

"Drunk?" Vision asked curiously. "I see in my research that a 'drunk' person seems quite unstable."

"I-I'm not gettin' drunk, Vizh, don' worry." Peter assured.

Vision looked the slightest bit disappointed. "Yes, naturally…"

"Wait, did you _want_ him to get drunk?" Rhodey asked incredulously.

"Not to his detriment!" Vision protested, with an injured sniff. "Merely for the purposes of research."

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "I am the only sane man here."

Pepper glanced up from her phone. "So what am I?"

"The only sane woman."

"Does that make us team parents?"

Pepper grinned at Tony. "I suppose so. You're outvoted as father of the Avengers, Tony."

Tony snapped his fingers in mock annoyance. "Damn. Just when I was finally getting used to the idea."

"Well, if you ever decide to be a father in a different way…" Pepper trailed off, blowing a kiss in his direction.

Tony snorted. "And screw up another child the way my old man did? Not a chance! I'll stick to being the doting uncle that gives cool presents."

Pepper sighed. This had been a bone of contention for them lately. Tony brushed off any talk of having a baby with her, always claiming that he would never be able to rise above his own father's flawed example.

But now wasn't the time for another discussion.

Thankfully, Rhodey changed the subject.

"So, kid, you gonna fill us in on what exactly went down with your prom date's dad bein' a criminal? 'Cause that's one hell of a cliffhanger."

Peter looked away. "I mean, there's not much to tell."

"We promise not to laugh." Pepper said, straight-faced.

"I-I mean, it wasn't funny! I went to pick her up, and there was her dad. The guy I'd run into. And then I had to stand through prom pics."

"Truly an exquisite form of torture." Rhodey muttered.

"So from there, it was pretty much shot?" Tony asked, mixing himself a cocktail and ignoring Pepper's glare.

Peter nodded. "I felt really bad about ditching Liz, but I couldn't just go on like everything was normal. So I had Ned track him. Ned's my friend." he added.

Pepper, Tony, and Rhodey shared an amused look. Vision simply nodded at the extra information.

"And then I stole Flash's car-he's the jerk that keeps messing with me at school-and drove it after the guy, and then he was monologuing in a warehouse-I didn't think villains actually monologue-!"

"They do." Tony and Rhodey replied in the same breath.

"Well, he did. And then he crashed a building on me, and tried to hijack the plane with all the stuff going to the base, and I was on the outside of the plane, and it crashed onto the beach at Coney Island!"

Tony's face briefly showed mild horror before flitting back to his mask of mild arrogant confusion. "I'm sorry, a _building_ fell on you?"

"I-ah...I lifted it up and got out."

"_Obviously_, but somehow that seems like critical information!"

The man and the boy held each other's gaze in a standoff that lasted a full minute.

Peter dropped his gaze. "...I was pretty scared."

"I'm sure!" Pepper exclaimed. "But you got out?"

"Yeah, all by myself! I didn't think I could, but I did. I stopped him all by myself...and I saved him, too. From the fire, on the beach. Even left a note for Happy."

Rhodey snorted. "Yeah, he sent Tony a picture of the note."

"...he showed up in my school bathroom to bring me here."

Tony, still processing the 'a building fell on me' information, muttered, "He does that, occasionally."

"Hides in bathrooms?"

"What?" Tony finally came back to reality. "No, I mean...never mind. Whatever. So you went home, took a nap, and then Happy brought you here. Truly a victory for the forces of justice."

Peter frowned. "Yeah...all that."

Pepper sighed. Tony was doing the thing where he refused to talk about his emotions. She'd talk to him later.

"Peter, that's amazing. You did a great job." she leaned over and hugged him. "And don't worry about the press conference, they totally believed that Tony only just proposed to me."

Tony cracked a small simile. "You had good reactions, Pep."

Rhodey stretched his legs out. "Well I, for one, need a drink after that catastrophe of a story."

Peter glanced casually at Rhodey's beer, but didn't attempt to grab it as the man ambled slowly back to his chair. Rhodey and Pepper shared a look between them.

"You know," the man added. "I don't think Vizh has ever seen Star Wars."

Peter forgot his worries about Mr. Stark being mad. "Really? No way!"

Vision frowned. "Is this another movie?"

Peter looked horrified, and then turned pleading eyes on Tony. "Mr. Stark? We gotta fix this!"

* * *

Four hours and two Star Wars movies later, Peter was yawning louder than the end credits music.

"Okay, bedtime." Tony said. "It's almost midnight."

"I stay up later than mid-" Peter's protest was cut off by another yawn.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Your room's that way kid. Same one you stayed in before. You know the way?"

Peter nodded. "I know, Mr. Stark. Thanks, uh...thanks for having me."

What Peter didn't know was that Pepper and Tony were currently engaged in a silent dialogue/argument. It took about thirty seconds. And Pepper won.

"Well, let me show you the way, anyway." Tony stood up from the couch and walked with Peter down the hall.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Uh, yeah. kid?"

"Are you mad at me? A-about the building? You looked kinda mad earlier...I'm sorry! I didn't know he was gonna drop the building…"

Tony held up one hand and gave a weary sigh. "I know, kid. I know. None of us could have known. Nobody can really know anything." he gave a half smile. "Even genius billionaires. I'm not mad at you. I just want you to be-"

"Be better, I know." Peter muttered.

Tony shook his head. "Be safe. And I know you can't always be, and I know I can't always stop everything. No matter how good my tech is or how hard I try." He gave a bitter smile. "You know, Pepper wants kids?"

"I-uh...n-no…" Peter could feel his heart thump in panic. What was he supposed to say to that? But Tony was still talking.

"I can't even handle a fifteen year old who's not blood mine, what the hell am I supposed to do with a little-tiny-" Tony broke off, shaking his head as though he could also shake away the emotions.

"M-Mr. Stark…?" Peter offered timidly. "I-I know it's probably hard, but...but I think I'll be okay. And even if I'm not...we'll handle it, right? Together."

Tony stared into space for a minute, before his features rearranged into something like acceptance.

He leaned forward and pulled Peter into a hug.

"This is still not a hug, I'm just opening the door behind you. This one's yours, kid."

Peter laughed softly. "Sure, Mr. Stark. I got it."

He walked into the room and let Tony ramble about ambient lighting and one hundred choices for alarms.

They were okay. They would be okay.

And he would be the Spider-man.

* * *

**Hands up if you caught the subtle jab at Mysterio in Cap's hero speech. I'll have plenty to say about him once I eventually get there in the ChristyVerse...**

**Reviews are Tony Stark's hugs.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I AM BACK! Apologies for the wait. I've been sitting on this chapter for a long time...I started writing it back in April and it finally came into a cohesive whole over the last few days. Four of my friends are getting married within the next six months, so I have weddings on the brain.**

**It is finally here! A Stark-Potts wedding! Hurrah! (Thank God...)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Six: In New York, You Can Be a New Man

"I can't believe Pepper was actually okay with the red tux." Tony muttered, slipping into said suit.

It was the morning of the wedding. Tony was breathing shallow breaths, trying not to incite a panic attack.

Rhodey gripped his shoulder. "Yeah, you're lucky she's nice like that. You've got a good lady, Tony."

He spoke calmly, aware of the writhing pit of emotions that was Tony Stark at this moment.

Steve was attempting to help Peter with his tie. Bruce was checking his phone. Happy was guarding the door, like a giant bulldog.

"I still can't believe we made it." Tony whispered. "Hell of a long way from Afghanistan."

"Easy, Tony." Steve murmured. "Just focus on standing up."

Bruce gave a wan, half-smile. "How did we get here anyway? I'm still shocked my kids' visas went through okay."

"I'm shocked you didn't murder the caterer last week, Tony." Rhodey added.

"You can't serve pate with cupcakes. Inexcusable." Tony griped, glancing at the bare, white wall of a little back room in the church. "Why does this room have no windows?"

Rhodey steered him to a chair as he finished dressing. "Easy, easy does it. You can do this."

Tony gave a barking, sardonic laugh. "I built a circuit board at four years old. A V8 bike engine at six. Graduated MIT at sixteen and hacked into the Pentagon on a dare. Built a suit in the desert, in a cave, with a box of scraps…why is this the hardest thing I've ever done?"

"Y-you hacked into the Pentagon, Mr. Stark?" Peter asked, wide eyed.

Steve, Rhodey, and Bruce all shared a relieved look as Tony relaxed just a bit to regale Peter with his high school escapade.

"Thirty minutes." Happy mouthed, pointing to his watch.

The others nodded.

It was going to be a long half hour.

* * *

**_Six Months Earlier_**

Steve watched Christy barrel down the slide in the Barton's backyard.

"Can't get me, Cooper!"

Cooper, hot on her heels, let out an annoyed groan. "It's just tag, not a war!"

"Everything is a war if you want it to be!"

Steve heard a mirthless chuckle behind him and turned around to find Tony standing there, hands in his pockets.

"Something she picked up from you, Rogers?"

Steve shook his head. "Shockingly, no. I've never heard her say that. Sometimes she just makes up things in the moment."

"Hm. Yeah, kids are weird like that. You heard half the things that come out of Peter's mouth?"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "You finally admit he's your kid?"

Tony studied the ground earnestly and then popped up his head like a jack-n-the-box. "Anyway, enough chit-chat. I, uh, had something to ask you."

"Ask away."

"Uh...yeah, so we're starting to actually plan this whole wedding thing, me an' Pep. I told her to let me hire a wedding planner but she insists on not causing more drama…"

"A wedding what?" Steve echoed, in an effort to break the ice, and also in genuine confusion.

"Wedding planner, someone that makes sure you remember to do all the stuff for your wedding an' helps organize stuff."

"There's people for that?"

Tony gave a half smile. "Yes, Rogers, welcome to the 21st century."

Steve shook his head. "Whatever. So, yeah, you've been planning things. Need my help for something?"

"Actually I was wondering if you like to be one of my groomsmen." Tony said, all in one casual rush.

Steve blinked. "A groomsman."

"I mean, Rhodey's my best man, and Bruce and Happy are going to be in it too, but I thought about it and I couldn't shake the idea, and even Pepper thought it was good, so...yeah."

Steve stood still for a minute, feeling floored.

"After all this, you'd ask me?" he questioned. "Not just us two, but everything with Howard…?"

"Yeah." Tony said quickly. "After all this. I'd like it. I'd like to get along."

"Tony...you know I forgive you. And I've asked you to forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you...I guess I never realized how much you valued my opinion."

Tony scoffed. "What, me, value the opinion of the guy my dad held up as a saint? As someone brave, strong, and true?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "I made a good martyr. It was a shame I had to come back to life and show the world I wasn't perfect. And it was a shame I got used as a martyr in the first place. I didn't want to be one."

"If the whole ice thing hadn't happened...you probably would have been like an uncle or something." Tony said, his eyes taking refuge on the ground once more.

"No probably about it." Steve corrected. "I'd've picked you up for fun weekends an' Sunday dinners. And then tried to talk sense into your dad."

Tony glanced up, slightly. "Honest?"

"Honest, Tony."

For a long moment, the only sound that could be heard was the shrieks of the children playing. The air hung heavy with grace.

"So, Steve...how do you feel about red tuxes?"

Steve raised his eyebrow. "Red tuxes? What kind of red? Fire-engine, or rust? Or burgundy?"

Tony's face showed mild surprise.

"I'm an artist, Tony, I know my colors."

"Ah...clearly. So, I was thinking...like the suit. I guess that's burgundy."

"Maroon…" Steve muttered, looking Tony over. "Maroon and black. You'd look sharp. We all would."

"You'll back me to Pepper?"

"Sure! A nice, subdued red should be fine. Who else you want for groomsmen? Rhodey, Happy, and Bruce...me…"

"And Peter."

Steve's eyes widened in surprise. "Peter? You guys have really gotten close, huh?"

Tony shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. "Yeah, well, he's a good kid. Smart, got a good head on his shoulders. Better than I was at his age."

Steve gave Tony a sideways glance. "You know he sent me a message, after that mess on the Ferry…"

"Yeah, yeah, I took the suit from him. Someone had to be the responsible adult."

"He really looks up to you, Tony."

Tony looked down. "I can't imagine why."

Steve snorted. "You're Iron Man. Hero of the modern age. The futurist. You're like the next Walt Disney, just without the cartoons."

"Yeah, but the thing is, he doesn't just care about Iron Man. He cares about me. Tony Stark. You of all people should know the difference."

"I do." Steve glanced across the field that surrounded Clint's house. "The person is different from the hero. And the person is still worth being loved, no matter how unlike the hero he feels."

Tony nodded, the look in his eyes almost subdued. "You think he'll go for this? Being a groomsman in an old fogey's wedding?"

"Tony, you and I both know he'll start babbling with those huge eyes of his wide open until he finally stutters out something resembling a yes."

"...fair. So. Maroon?"

"Maroon. Do you want to look at suits this week? Maybe just us. Nephew."

A look of mild horror crossed Tony's face as a smug smile appeared on Steve's.

"Yeah. Sure. On the one condition that you never call me that again. Uncle Steve."

Steve winced. "That's fair."

* * *

**_Five Months Earlier_**

"So then, I asked her what she was doing, and she said she wanted to try making dinner, like Baba. I said that was fine, but why was she trying to burn the whole kitchen down? And then she started crying...I felt like the worst mother of the year."

Pepper smiled and nodded sympathetically. "I'm almost terrified of having children, especially Tony's children. Specifically for that reason. Imagine me dealing with a science experiment in the bathroom. And those dark eyes staring up innocently…"

"They could have your eyes." Natasha pointed out.

Pepper shook her head. "Less likely. Recessive genes and all."

"Well, you can always dream. But I think you like the idea of a child with Tony's eyes."

Pepper grinned sheepishly and looked away. "You've caught me. I'm in love with my fiance."

"Shame, shame. Well, as nice as it is to talk to someone female, was there a reason you called?"

"Actually, I…" Pepper took a deep breath. "I asked Christy last week if she wanted to be a junior bridesmaid."

Natasha smiled. "How did she take it?"

"Oh, the usual. Screaming, hugging, jumping up and down. I've asked a couple old friends from college as well. But...I wanted to know if you would do it, too?"

Natasha gave a sly look. "You want me to be a junior bridesmaid?"

"No! You know what I mean." Pepper swatted at the screen. "Damn you, I was trying to be sentimental!"

"And I appreciate it!" Natasha said, more seriously. "Are you sure?"

"Very sure. You and I have both seen Tony at some of his lowest points...and you've helped us both out, especially after the Accords. You were the one that told me I needed to come back. And you were right."

"I always knew you two would work out."

"Then consider this a thank-you for always having faith in us." Pepper shifted slightly. "Tony mentioned Bruce saying that you two weren't planning on having a wedding in the States."

Natasha sighed. "We thought about it. Over and over and over. But in the end, it just sounded like a lot of drama that neither of us wanted. We're legally married, and we already have two kids. If that's not legit, I don't know what is."

"True." Pepper frowned. "It's a bit disappointing for all of us, I think, but it's not out of character for either of you. Besides, you became the third couple to have kids, I think that redeems you."

Natasha snorted. "Steve didn't have kids with Sharon. When is he going to pop the question, by the way?"

"I don't know. But I think it'll be soon. He went into the city two weeks ago and just said he had "some errands to run"."

Natasha gave a pleased smile. "My favorite ship is still sailing."

"I thought we were your favorite ship!"

"I actually helped them get together! You two managed that part all on your own."

Pepper shook her head. "I can't believe this is finally happening."

"Believe it." Natasha paused. "So what colors were you thinking for your bridesmaids?"

Pepper sighed. "Tony is insisting on red tuxes. Maroon red. So I was thinking navy."

Natasha nodded, the fashion sense drilled into her for spy missions rising to the surface. "Navy and red...probably with white and black thrown in. It would compliment your hair."

"And yours, and Christy and Samantha and Kerry would look good in it...alright, navy it is. Although...that does technically make our wedding colors red, white, and blue."

"And black." Natasha said, keeping a straight face. "Don't forget the black."

* * *

**_Two Weeks Earlier_**

Christy stood on tiptoes, trying to see into the crowd of people that emerged from behind the airport doors, leading to the "meeting area".

"Where are they?" she mumbled impatiently.

Steve grabbed her arm. "Christy, relax. They had a lot of luggage to get. It's gonna take time."

"There they are!" Bucky called, gesturing to four figures that walked huddled together.

The four figures became three as Natasha picked up Shanta and put her on her hip, not breaking her stride for a minute.

"Aunt Tasha!" Christy yelled, practically jumping up and down. "Uncle Bruce!"

The family made their way past the gate and into the waiting embrace of their friends.

"How was the flight?" Sam asked, taking one of the two suitcases from Bruce's hands.

Bruce gave a tired smile. "Long. But we made it. Anish, can you say hi to Uncle Sam?"

Anish waved uncertainly at the man he only knew from grainy Skype calls. "Hello, Uncle."

Sam grinned. "Hello yourself. You tired?"

Anish pulled his jacked closer around him. "Cold. Airplane very cold."

"They are. And unfortunately, it's probably colder out there than you've felt in your life, but the car has heat. You'll be okay."

Anish's eyes grew very wide. "Heat in car!"

"I guess you've never needed that, have you?"

Meanwhile, Christy was snuggle-hugging a very wiggly Shanta, while Steve, Natasha, and Bucky talked logistics.

"Sam and I both drove here, so we'd have enough room for all your stuff. You guys can go together, I doubt you wanna split up." Steve said.

"I'm surprised Tony didn't send a limo for use." Natasha said, gratefully sipping the water Bucky handed her. Planes always left her dehydrated.

"He wanted to, but we talked him out of it." Bucky explained. "He agreed it would be too much for the kids, even if he did rent one in India…"

Natasha sighed. "I'm just happy I don't have to haggle for a cab."

Shanta peeked up at Christy. "I missing you."

Christy giggled. "You missed me? You never seen me before!"

"I see! On computer. I missing and missing you!"

"I missed you too, I guess. I'm happy to see you!"

Anish glanced over at them. "Hello, Christy."

Christy grinned. "Hello, Anish. Nice to finally see you. You too grown up for a hug?"

"What? I...no, I…?"

Anish was cut off by both Christy and Shanta almost tackling him in a three-way hug.

Bruce sighed happily. "We're home."

In short order, they were packed, luggage and all, into the two vehicles. Shanta pressed close to Bruce, trying not to be lost in the bustle.

"Baba…" she whispered. "So much!"

"I've got you, Shanta." Bruce answered, keeping a tight grip on her hand.

"So are we going straight to the Base?" Natasha asked. "Tony said something about selling the Tower."

Sam nodded. "He finally up and did it. Moved everything out to the new HQ. It's still massive, but it's not quite as...looming. And it's nearer to us."

"You're stayin' with Tony, right?" Bucky added.

"Yeah, he invited us." Bruce returned. "But we'll split the time a bit, I think, especially after the wedding. Something tells me they'll be a bit...preoccupied."

Bucky snorted. "Just a bit. Be surprised if there isn't a little Stark heir in nine months."

"What happen nine month?" Anish asked, sneaking side glances at his Very Famous Uncle Bucky With the Cool Metal Arm.

Bucky grinned, and swun Anish up on his shoulders. "Now, you were not supposed to hear that, kiddo!"

Anish screeched for joy as Bruce grinned at the sight. "You like your Uncle, buddy?"

Looking away, Anish nodded sheepishly. "Han, Baba. He is very strong!"

Bucky looked rather pleased. "You wanna look at the arm later, don't ya, kid?"

Anish blushed. "Maybe. I see it?"

"Sure you can, and I might even let ya take it apart."

"Really?"

The loud chorus of laughs from his Baba and the others told Anish this was probably not the case. But he didn't care. He was with the rest of his family, and all was well, even if America was cold.

Up with Natasha and Steve, Shanta was peeking up at her tall, blond uncle, when she wasn't excitedly chattering to Christy in a mix of English and Bengali. Christy could follow well enough.

Steve grinned at the pair, and then at Natasha. "Does someone have a crush? She keeps looking up."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I think so. She likes your hair. She always stares at it in pictures and says it's shiny. But she also just likes hair in general. Always wants to braid mine."

"Did you do her hair?" Steve asked, glancing at Shanta's two tight braids. "Or Bruce?"

Natasha shook her head. "No, me."

"I didn't know you could braid."

"She taught me."

Steve's face lit up with that adorable puppy smile that made Natasha want to throw up and smile back at the same time.

"They teach us a lot, don't they?" he said quietly.

Natasha nodded. "Yeah. They do. I missed you, Steve."

"Me, too. We all did. But you guys...you're happy, over there? Clint said you were."

"We are."

Steve nodded, sagely. "You and Bruce have fought enough wars. You deserve peace while you can have it. I just wish that peace wasn't ten thousand miles away."

"12,738, actually." Natasha corrected, a wry grin on her face. "And still a couple hundred to go."

"We'll get some food for you first." Steve deadpanned.

* * *

**_Twenty Hours Earlier_**

The Avengers HQ base had a large common room for lounging. Usually it was quiet, but today, it was filled with the sound of nine men (and one android) utterly abandoning all dignity. For the sake of Tony's bachelor party, of course.

Peter, although he was to be in the wedding, was distinctly not in attendance. Currently, they were engaged in a rousing game of Truth or Dare, complete with the finest alcohol Stark Industries could finance.

Bucky hesitated slightly, before uttering: "Truth."

Tony blinked. "...Um, yes. I, ah...I was really hoping you'd say dare."

"Was it so you could magnetize my arm?"

Tony hesitated a moment longer before mumbling something incoherantly.

Rhodey elbowed him. "C'mon, you have nothing to ask Barnes?"

Tony frowned, before eventually lighting up with glee. "Did Rogers swear back during the War?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I dunno where you idiots got the idea that Steve's a prude. He's moral, sure, but he could swear like a sailor. Yes, he swore. Not excessively, but if he was mad or frustrated enough..."

"Buck!" Steve whined, turning the shade of a tomato.

Clint took a sip of beer. "You wasted that turn, Stark."

"Shut up, Legolas. It's your turn, anyway." Tony replied, with no real rancor.

Clint grinned. "Stark, truth or dare?"

"...dare."

Clint frowned, but after a moment, his face split with an evil grin. "I dare you to call Pepper and serenade her."

Tony made a face. "I can't sing."

"It is dare, not talent show." Pietro snarked back, taking a sip of his drink, and chasing it with popcorn.

Steve, grinning with uncharacteristic sadistic glee, held out his phone. Pepper's number flashed on the screen, already being dialed.

"Rogers, what the hell-o-oh hey, Pep…"

"Tony…" Pepper sounded highly suspicious. "Are you guys drunk already?"

"For your information, no, we are not…"

"We're playin' Truth or Dare, Pepper." Rhodey said, in a tone that betrayed eye rolling, even if one couldn't see it.

"So what's the dare?" Pepper asked.

Tony cleared his throat. "It's um...just listen." In a passable voice, he began to sing:

"When I get older, losing my hair

Many years from now

Will you still be sending me a Valentine

Birthday greetings bottle of wine

If I'd been out till quarter to three

Would you lock the door

Will you still need me, will you still feed me

When I'm sixty-four…"

The whole group of men was stunned silent. Only Happy and Rhodey looked like this wasn't their first experience with hearing Tony sing. Happy had a look akin to a proud father on his face.

"Oh, Tony!" Pepper gushed. "That was amazing. Was the dare to sing? You did so well!"

Tony smiled faintly. "To serenade you, yeah. You liked it?"

"Every second. But I need to get back to the party now. You guys have fun, okay?"

"I will." Tony said, before smirking and adding, "Not as much fun as tomorrow, though…" before, Steve hastily ended the call.

"You don't have a half bad voice, Tony." Bruce said, clearly still in shock.

"There were very few wrong notes." Vision added earnestly.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Alright, who's next?"

* * *

_**The Wedding**_

It was here. The moment had finally arrived. Everyone's tie or dress was on straight, and the music played softly.

This was a quiet little church, in the middle of Scenic Nowhere, New York. Once, long ago, Tony would have expected (if it happened at all) his wedding to be mobbed by photographers and journalists, all hungry for a glimpse of Stark Industries' golden playboy tying the knot.

Now, he was surrounded by close friends as good as family, and he was at peace.

Mostly.

Suddenly, the music swelled, and the famed Wedding March played. In lieu of Pepper's father, who had died several years prior, Happy was walking her down the aisle.

Tony felt his heart drop into his stomach.

_I can't do this, I can't….I can't do this, I can call for the suit, run, get away before Pep is stuck with me, we'll probably end up fighting and divorced, or I'll end up like Dad and live at work…._

Rhodey locked eyes with him at precisely that moment, and gave a hard shake of his head.

_No, Tony._

Tony could hear the words as clearly as if they were spoken aloud.

Quick as lightning, Rhodey flicked his hands up and down, as though gesturing to his whole self. Then, he gave a thumbs up, at waist level.

Tony huffed quietly. He hadn't seen Rhodey do that in ages.

They had met in college. He still wasn't sure what had drawn the quiet, ROTC boy and the rich, lonely playboy together, but something had made them stick together like glue. Enough for Tony to divulge enough of his inner turmoil.

_"Tony, when are you going to believe that you, as you are, is enough? You don't have to put on an act."_

From that fateful midnight hour conversation, Rhodey had on the spot created the sign. It was their code, frequently flashed at him whenever he was about to make a mistake he would very much regret.

_You are enough. You don't have to pretend. You don't have to strive. You will be loved, as you are._

Tony breathed, in and out, and suddenly, there was Pepper beside him.

He could feel his eyes get wider and wider, and his grin stretching longer and longer.

Pepper smiled indulgently and mouthed "dork".

"Duh", Tony mouthed back.

The music ceased. The minister cleared his throat.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony…"

* * *

**_That Night_**

Pepper sighed to herself, as she wriggled out of her wedding dress into something less constrictive.

"Of all the places to spend my honeymoon, Avengers HQ was not top priority."

"It's just for the night!" Tony assured, as he wrestled with his own tux. "Happy wanted to fly the plane to Malibu and he's...indisposed, at the moment. Besides, we get to sleep in our own bed."

"Oh, you want to sleep, do you?" Pepper said, arching one eyebrow.

Tony gulped. "Unless you had...other plans?"

Pepper laughed, shaking her head. "Anthony Edward Stark, are you suddenly afraid of sex because we're married?"

"No, I am not, in fact, I'm just…" Tony dropped his sarcastic facade. "I'm just still shocked we did it."

"Believe it." Pepper replied, sinking onto the bed and stretching out. "Oh, what a party. Happy is taking care of Peter, right?"

"Yep, he's got the kid packed off to his room. Thank God. It won't be too rowdy, but he should get to sleep."

Pepper reached out and tugged him onto the bed. "You're going to be a fantastic father, you know. And husband."

Tony scoffed. "And whenever did you arrive at such a conclusion?"

Now it was Pepper's turn to scoff. "Tony, you're not the same many you were all those years ago when I was a lowly secretary and you were a playboy genius."

"'M still a genius." Tony protested.

Pepper tapped his chest. "Proof that Tony Stark has a heart, and always had one."

"...Pep?"

"Yeah?"

"What if I screw up?"

Pepper shrugged. "Then we work it out. We talk. We get counseling if we need it. But I'm not leaving you. And I know you're not leaving me."

Pacified, almost, Tony maneuvered under the thick weighted blanket. Bruce had said they were good for helping with anxiety.

Pepper smiled. This was the Tony Stark she knew and loved. Not the blustering, fast-talking businessman, but the deep, generous, and often shy man that lurked beneath.

"We'll make a home…" she whispered in his ear, and his squirm made her smile brighter. "A home with no shouting, no slamming doors, no cold shoulders. You'll keep me safe and I'll keep you still. No fear, no hurt, no worry. We'll heal, Tony. And we'll raise a family that doesn't need to heal."

Tony blinked. "H-how can you be sure?"

Pepper tapped his chest once more, where a metal death-trap contraption had once kept his heart beating.

"Tony, I can't know every challenge you've created for yourself, in your mind. All the worlds and contingencies you write and erase. But I'm not afraid, you see. Because I know who I married. And he is enough for me."

Tony sagged into her shoulder and let out a deep, shuddering breath.

It was enough. It would be enough. He would be enough.

"Thanks." he whispered.

Pepper snuggled closer. "You're welcome."

* * *

**I clearly need to write more Tony/Pepper. They're fun. **

**Tune in next time for Christmas In July (in a meta sense) where we can vicariously pretend it's already the end of the year by watching our favorite characters all crowd in at the base. And it's a two-parter! First up: Shanta and Anish discover American Christmas traditions, Vision tries to be helpful and slightly fails, and Bruce and Natasha finally get a family holiday.**

**Reviews are snuggles and gestures from friends. Remember, you are enough.**


	7. Chapter 7

***GASP* Bookthief posts two chapters with less than a week in between? Why, it must be...SUMMER!**

**Ahh, the life of a teacher. The break is nice, though I do miss my students. So enjoy some Christmas in July, part one!**

* * *

Chapter Seven: Let Nothing You Dismay, Part 1

"Tony, are you sure about this?" Pepper asked. "That's a lot of guests."

Tony gestured around the Base Common Room with a sweeping hand. "And I have a lot of empty room."

Pepper smirked. "_You_. I thought this was _Avengers'_ HQ, not 'Tony Stark's Personal Hideaway'."

"Eh, to-may-to, to-mah-to," Tony smirked. "Besides, ever since the Great Split of 2016, and Bruce and Nat playing Doctors Without Borders, it is _desperately_ dull around here."

His tone was light, but his eyes were slightly sad.

"It is a bit quiet." Pepper agreed. "This isn't really a home. Do you want to leave New York? You have other houses…"

Tony shook his head. "I don't wanna leave here, but I've been thinking of taking a page out of Barton's book."

"...how many pages?"

"Um, mostly the ones where we buy a cute lake house and settle down...with possibly a kid."

Pepper sputtered. "A-am I hearing straight? A kid? You'd really want one?"

"Yeah, well, I've been spending a lot of time with Peter, and I've decided that I might, possibly, manage not to be the worst father in existence."

Pepper sighed, pulling her husband into a hug. "Tony. Why do you want a kid?"

Tony paused, turning the question over in his mind.

_What is and always will be my greatest creation...is you._

"Dad called me his greatest creation." he said slowly. "And I...I want that, but I don't wanna just create a kid and then _leave_. I want to be a part of his-her-its' life. Picnics and ball and tea parties and school and, and...I want a legacy. Someone who will live after I'm gone."

Pepper leaned in and pressed a kiss against his frantic lips.

"You will." she said. "But first we have to survive Christmas, here. And _then_ we can see about lake houses."

Tony snapped his fingers. "Darn. Such a shame. But I guess we have bigger fish to fry. Like where we're putting everyone."

"Don't you already have rooms assigned? Everyone lived here not too long ago, can't they just have their old spaces back?"

Tony sighed. "There are such things as rhetorical questions."

"Not when discussing strategy. Now, anything else to sort out?"

* * *

"So, Tony wants us all at the Base for Christmas? Natasha asked.

Bruce nodded. "It sounds like he's planning a big bash. He's invited us, Clint's family, Steve and company...everyone."

Ever since coming to the States for Tony and Pepper's wedding in late November, they had bounced between the Base and Avenger's Hill. Currently, they were squeezed into Clint's house.

"It'll be nice to have some space." Natasha admitted. "Laura is the epitome of hospitality, but it is a bit crowded."

They were sitting out on the porch, wrapped snugly in coats, hats, and winter clothing. Having left hot, arid Kolkata, with an average daily temperature of 80 degrees fahrenheit, and traded it for bone-chilling New York winter weather, they were still adjusting.

Anish and Shanta stomped out of the house in their newly-bought winter clothes. They still shivered.

"C'mere, Anish, it's warmer here." Natasha coaxed, shifting so he could move onto her lap.

Anish quickly darted for his Ma. "Cooper laugh. But it is very cold!"

Shanta nodded and snuggled into Bruce's arms with a whimpery whine. "Cold, Baba!"

Bruce laughed softly. "You'll get used to it, just like Ma and I got used to the heat in India. Now, how would you two like to spend Christmas with Uncle Tony and Aunt Pepper and _evvvveryone_ else you've met at the Avengers' Base?"

Shanta looked like she didn't quite understand, but nodded anyway at the idea of being with all of her new family.

"Ma, what is Christmas for, again?" Anish asked.

Natasha gave a light frown and looked at Bruce. "You explain. You at least went to church as a child. I grew up in a government program. A _Soviet_ government program."

"It's a holiday that means lots of different things to different people." Bruce said diplomatically. "Some people use it just to be with family and give presents to each other. But there's also a story for it."

As reliably as he could, he recited the Christmas story, pulling it from a deep-buried memory of dark skies and lit candles and soft singing.

Anish looked intrigued. "Jesus story like Krishna story. He is born to save people. But Krishna fight a bad king. Jesus fight a bad king?"

Bruce coughed. "Maybe go ask your Uncle Sam or Uncle Steve about that. Or Uncle Bucky. Any of them can tell you better."

"Why?"

Bruce looked helplessly at Natasha. She looked even more at a loss to answer than he.

"Because...they believe it, and I'm not sure I do."

Anish frowned. "Why not believe?"

"...so many people have so many different stories, I'm not sure which one is true. I don't know if I believe your Krishna stories, either. Everyone has to decide what they believe about life, and important things. And I'm still deciding, some days."

Anish nodded slowly, satisfied for the moment.

Shanta, slightly lost in the philosophical conversation, tugged on Bruce's coat. "Baba, what happen at Christmas?"

That was a question much easier for Bruce to answer. "We'll decorate the whole base with pretty things, because it's a special day. There's a tree to put presents under, and you decorate that, too."

"Tree in house?!" Shanta cried. "But make mess!"

"That's what vacuums are for." Natasha soothed.

Shanta did not look pacified. "I do not like vacuums." she enunciated clearly. "Too loud!"

Bruce and Natasha tried to smother their giggles. Shanta's first meeting with a vacuum had been the little Dirt Devil they kept in their Kolkata apartment. That was mostly fine. But last week, she had been introduced to the ancient, massive Kirby that Laura used to shampoo carpet. That had been an adventure.

"Don't worry, Shanta." Anish said, switching back to Bengali. "Uncle Tony will have a quiet vacuum. He has everything nice."

Shanta looked mildly less wary. "Really?"

"Of course." Natasha assured.

_And if he doesn't, then he'll invent it…_

"What else happen for Christmas?" Anish asked, eager to divert Shanta from asking about vacuums again.

"Mm, usually people bake cookies or sweet things." Bruce said. "Christy will, she loves to bake. Wanda, too. And there's lots of special music."

"And lights." Natasha added. "People like to decorate with lights, here. And Tony will likely have about ten thousand of them."

"She's not kidding." Bruce murmured, seeing the shocked looks on his children's faces. "The Base is very big."

"And...and give presents?" Shanta asked, looking oddly thoughtful.

"Yes, give presents." Natasha answered. "Lots of presents."

Shanta nodded, storing that information away for later.

Ma and Baba had done so much for them. It wasn't fair that she hadn't done anything in return. Baba said that she and Anish were the best gift, but surely she could do better! She would find the best presents for her parents, and make them happy.

And she had a whole Base full of people to help.

* * *

"Every night, I lie in bed, the brightest colors fill my head...a million dreams are keepin' me awake…!"

Bucky sighed deeply, hearing the melody drift down the stairs. "Just when I think a musical's run its course, she finds a new one."

Wanda laughed and squeezed his hand. "You poor thing."

"...and what makes it worse is, the songs are actually really catchy. They all are." Bucky leaned forward and groaned. "I'll never escape." Sitting up, he added, "Are you all packed to go to the Base?"

Wanda nodded. "It doesn't take me long to pack. It will take Laura and Clint longer. Well, mostly Laura."

Bucky laughed. "Sam's that for our house. He's trying to make sure everything is in order before we leave."

"And I could use some help with that!" Sam bellowed from the kitchen. "Barnes, stop making goo-goo eyes at your girlfriend and help me get this damn turkey into the cooler!"

Bucky flinched. "Uh...duty calls?"

"I got it, Sam!" Steve called, rushing down the stairs. He gave Bucky a thumbs up and a wink as he passed.

Bucky growled and swiped at him lightly. Wanda turned light pink.

"I should go." she demurred. "Laura probably needs my help."

Bucky pulled at her. "Stay. You'd just be in the way. She already stole Pietro to keep the kids occupied."

"True. Is Christy packing now?"

"Packing and 'researching'. She's determined to find everyone amazing Christmas presents. As usual. It's too bad she has shmucks like us to shop for. Steve always insists he'd be happy with socks. And _means _it!"

Wanda laughed, a lovely, pealing sound. Bucky's heart swelled, the way it did every time she laughed.

_God, I love her…_

Christy barreled down the stairs with a duffel bag, pillow, blanket, and backpack. "Is Sam putting stuff in the car already?"

"Yeah, but tread careful." Bucky said. "He's in speed-pack mode."

"I've been packing, at least." Christy muttered, trooping out the back door.

Bucky hmphed. "She's getting too snarky."

"I wonder where she picked up the habit." Wanda said innocently.

Bucky pouted, then shrugged. "Fair. Wanna help me pack?"

"And what do I get for it, _vojnik dečak_?"

"I guess we can negotiate a deal…"

Wanda smiled. "I like deals."

* * *

Pietro pinched his nose and sighed patiently.

"_Pietro, can you keep the kids occupied?", she says! "Oh, you're so good with them, and you're already packed?", she says!_

Cooper, bless his quiet soul, was attempting to read in the treehouse. Lila was storming around the garage looking for her fifth arrow that she absolutely _had_ to bring to the Base, along with her bow and the other four. And Nathaniel was crying, because he tripped on a rock.

_At least Nat and Bruce are already gone….two more kids, bozhe moy…_

He patted Nathaniel's back absently, and then silently thanked the heavens as he saw Christy run down the hill.

"Pietro! Are you putting your stuff in Uncle Clint's car? 'Cause we still have space."

Pietro sighed. "I can bring it to the van if you watch them."

"Sure! I'm packed. Aw, Nat-Nat, what happened, buddy?"

Pietro gratefully handed a whimpering Nathaniel over to his 'cousin' and sped up the hill.

"I-I twipped on th' rock!" Nathaniel cried.

Christy examined him solemnly. "Well, you're not bleeding, and nothing's broken. So why don't we get some water? And then we can practice Christmas carols!"

"Christy, I can't find my last arrow!" Lila wailed.

"One minute, Lila. I'm gonna get Nat-Nat his water, and then I'll help you. Why don't you take a break, anyway?"

"Because I wanna practice my shooting, and I gotta have all five…"

Christy patted her shoulder. "No you don't, I'll share mine."

Ten minutes later, Christy poked her head into the treehouse. Cooper looked up from his book and sighed.

"We're not disturbing you for no reason, Aunt Laura says we need to eat lunch before we go to the base. I made a picnic, come eat."

Cooper glanced down. "...we can have the food here. It's too cold for Nate. I'll help you bring it up."

Smiling gratefully, Christy brought up the food. Lila helped Nathaniel, and soon they were all munching on sandwiches.

"If you were a Christmas carol, what would you be?" Christy asked, more to herself than anyone else.

Cooper frowned. "What?"

"It's something I asked Dad and everybody a...really _long_ time ago." Christy laughed. "Gosh, it was a long time ago! If you were a Christmas song, what would you be? Uncle Tony was We Three Kings, Dad was Good King Wenceslas…"

"Wha's Wen-sa-sauce?" Lila asked.

"It's a song about a king that gives food to a poor man on Christmas Eve."

"What was Auntie Nat?" Cooper asked, getting interested.

"Um...oh, Santa Clause is Comin' to Town. 'She sees you when you're sleeping…'"

Nathaniel giggled. "An' Daddy?"

"Angels We Have Heard on High. Because he likes to snipe from up high."

Cooper shook his head. "His song is I'll Be Home For Christmas. He always comes home for Christmas, no matter what. What about Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam?"

"They weren't here yet. I was little. I think it was the first Christmas I got adopted. Uncle Bruce was The Holly and the Ivy because he's green like ivy and holly, but that was it."

Cooper scrunched up his face to think, and then leaned forward. "Mom's is All I Want For Christmas is You. About Dad."

"Perfect!"

"Uncle Sam's should be about an angel, 'cause he has wings." Lila insisted.

Now it was Christy's turn to think. The thinking turned to humming. "Mm-MM-mm-I-It Came Upon A Midnight Clear! It's about angels flying to earth."

"Uncle Bucky should be Silent Night." Cooper said quietly. "I don't know why, but it should be."

Christy nodded slowly. "I like that. Vision?"

"Are there Christmas songs about robots?" Cooper questioned.

Christy gasped. "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer! He's red and...not human. But we still need him!"

"What's Wanda?" Lila asked. "Something pretty an' soft an' nice."

"O Come, O Come Emmanuel." Christy whispered.

"What song is that?"

"I'll play it for you later. It's a little sad but also kind of happy, too. They sing it at church. And Pietro is Joy to the World! He's always happy!"

"Is that everybody?" Cooper asked. "Everybody here, anyway?"

"I think so...maybe we can do more at the base. And I'll have my phone. I can look for more songs."

"Kids!" Clint called. "Time to get rolling! Christy, your dad wants ya! Let's go!"

"Coming!" cried four voices at once.

"This is going to be the best Christmas ever!" Lila squealed, as they bolted down the ladder and headed for the cars.

* * *

Steve glanced between Vision and Bucky with a highly suspicious air. "Are you _sure_ you shouldn't get Wanda? Or even Pietro?"

"Nope." Bucky said cavalierly. "Now pass me the flour, Vizh."

Bucky was attempting to make _vanilice_, a traditional Sokovian Christmas cookie, as a surprise for Wanda. Vision was attempting to help.

Steve was very sure this was going to end badly.

It wasn't that Bucky couldn't _cook_. He was a decent hand at simple things like stews and fry-ups. He could make breakfast no problem.

But the man couldn't bake to save his life.

He had tried, before and after being the Winter Soldier. But every time, something had gone wrong. Too much flour, too little flour, lumpy cheesecake, burned cookies. He'd once added salt instead of sugar to a cake. And Steve knew from Wanda that these cookies had to be made carefully.

So, he did what any good best friend would do. He sat down, grabbed a beer, and settled in to watch the train wreck.

"Okay, Vizh, what does it say to do next?"

"Mix the butter, sugar, egg, and flour in the mixing bowl." Vision replied.

Bucky casually dumped the ingredients in the mixture, and set it on the highest setting. He quickly turned it off when a whoosh of flour covered his shirt and a speck of butter hit him in the face.

"Buck, try not to break Tony's mixer, yeah? Do I need to get Sam?"

"No!" Bucky said shortly. He started the mixer again, this time on a lower setting.

Steve was still filled with fear and trepidation, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Bucky was wearing his determined survivor face, which meant that anyone who tried to reason with him would be shut out, shut down, or possibly punched out.

The ingredients mixed smoothly, and Bucky opened a container of vanilla sugar that he had pre-made days before, sending the soothing scent of vanilla all through the room. The kids were with Clint, Tony, and Rhodey decorating the tree, which meant that everything was quiet for once.

"We have chopped nuts, right Vizh?"

Vision nodded at the bowl of finely chopped nuts, that had created an even louder noise a few minutes earlier.

Bucky could feel sweat beading on his forehead. How had his mother and Steve's mother managed to do stuff like this practically every week? There were so many steps to remember.

His eyes swept around.

_Right, gotta clean up while the mixture is going…_

He started dumping mixing cups and bowls into the sink, sending a light spray of flour into the air.

Vision was frowning at the mixture. "My research tells me that you are supposed to add flour in small amounts."

Bucky bit his tongue and counted back from ten.

"Ma always told me that, too…" Steve added cautiously.

Bucky took a deep breath.

"Well, it's mixed now, yeah? No point in starting over. We'll make one little batch first. If it's bad, then we try again. We did it in half for that reason."

He kept straightening the kitchen until the mixer started to make a godawful whining sound, which he took to mean trouble. Vision poured in the nuts and vanilla sugar, a little at a time.

Now came the hard part: shaping the dough.

The recipe Vision had found in Wanda's cookbook insisted that the cookies should be crescent shaped.

Checking on the now-preheated oven, Bucky took out a gob of dough and started to form it into a lumpy half moon. Vision did the same.

Steve refrained from pointing out that they looked like Lila messing with Play-Doh.

Soon, they had a whole sheet covered with cookies, which they slipped into the oven. Steve also noticed that they neglected to set the timer.

_Should I…_

He imagined Bucky's sheepish face, Vision's puppy eyes, and Wanda's fond exasperation that would arise if they burned the cookies. Not to mention the proper cooking lesson that would ensue.

_Nah._

After another fifteen minutes straightening the kitchen, they sat down to bask in the glory of their hard work.

Five minutes later, Steve casually asked how long the cookies were supposed to bake for.

Bucky _jumped_.

"Shi-Vizh! Did you set the timer?"

"The timer?" Vision asked, puzzled.

"Yes, the timer! The damn thing on the stove that tells you how long something's cooked for!" Bucky cried, sprinting into the kitchen and throwing open the stove.

Upon further checking, they discovered that vanilice were only supposed to cook for nine minutes.

The deep brownish-black of the cookies only served to highlight this point.

Bucky moaned. "Dammit! I wanted to surprise her, and now-"

"Vizh? Bucky?" Wanda entered the room, cheeks flushed from outside. She had gone on a walk with Pietro. "What's going on?"

Man and android stared at each other, the look of shame unmistakable on both their faces.

"We...thought it might lift your spirits to make a dessert from Sokovia?" Vision tried.

"_We_?" Bucky said incredulously. "This was my idea!"

"Yes, but I found the recipe."

Wanda, trying to hold in her laughter, glanced at Steve. "Did they burn them?"

"They forgot to set the timer." Steve said, in a carefully neutral tone.

Bucky glared at him. "Punk. I oughta…"

"Buck." Steve said, pointing with his neck at Wanda, who was inspecting the burnt cookie pieces. She tasted one, and then smirked at Vision.

"Spirits lifted. But you overmixed the dough. And they taste...salty?"

Bucky slid into a bar chair and thunked his head on the counter. "Dammit."

Wanda, unable to hold it in, burst into hysterical laughter. "Y-you made the vanilla sugar with salt! Salt vanilla!"

Bucky looked about ready to explode across the counter, when Wanda pressed a kiss to his mouth.

"And I love it." she said earnestly. "Just like I love you."

She gave Vision a warm hug and said conspiratorily. "What if I teach you to make this for real?"

"Yes, please." Bucky and Vision said instantly.

Wanda laughed again. "Okay, okay! First, let's see if we have enough ingredients…"

* * *

Christy followed the sound of giggling to the room where Uncle Bruce and Aunt Tasha were staying. She could hear two voices at least.

"What about…?"

"No, that silly!"

She opened the door to find Lila and Shanta bent over a tablet.

"You have a tablet now, Li?" she asked.

Lila looked up, guilt written on her face. "It's Mom's...I can use it now. It's my play hours."

"Okay...so what are you doing? Watching something?"

Shanta looked up with big, heartbreaker eyes. "I want find something for Ma and Baba. Give for Christmas!"

"Ohhhhh. I see." Christy grinned. "And you can't pick what you want to give."

Shanta nodded, looking highly woebegone. "What buy? Want _good_ thing."

"Okay, okay, I know. You wanna say thank you, yeah? Because they adopted you."

"Yes…"

Christy sat down on the floor. "Well...I guess we start with this." With an impish grin, she tilted her face towards the ceiling. "Jarvis, can you help us find a present for Aunt Tasha?"

"Certainly, Miss Rogers."

Shanta screamed. Christy tried not to laugh and failed.

"Sorry, Shanta...Jarvis is a...computer robot. He helps Uncle Tony and all of us."

Shanta looked suspiciously up at the ceiling. "Not like god?"

"I assure you, Miss Banner-Romanoff, I am not a deity." Jarvis replied, a touch of sarcasm in the crisp, British tones.

Lila nodded. "He's like Vision, a little. But no body."

Jarvis had cast an internet search onto the bedroom wall, with the search of 'Christmas gifts for mothers'.

Shanta momentarily forgot the scary AI and pointed at a pretty necklace with a long, looping metal chain and four colored hearts.

"Pretty! And four heart!"

"They're birthstones." Christy explained. "Every stone is for a different month. When's your birthday?"

Shanta frowned. "Not know. In the paper book."

"Your passport?" Christy thought for a minute. "Does Uncle Bruce have those?"

"Yes, Baba keep all the passports. In...black bag."

Christy nodded. "On it. You two wait here."

In short order, Christy had dug out the passports and found the four dates they were looking for.

"Shanta, yours is in May. Anish is July. An' Aunt Tasha and Uncle Bruce are in November and December. I wish Uncle Bruce had let us have a party!"

"He said a party was too loud." Lila reminded her.

"Yeah, yeah...okay. Shanta, you want this for Aunt Tasha?"

Shanta gazed at the pretty necklace, and then nodded decisively. "I want. But...no money."

"Does Anish want to buy it, too?"

"Anish make something. Not tell me what. Say it...thing not tell."

"A secret?" Lila asked.

"Yes! Secret thing." Shanta pouted. "I want buy necklace. But how?"

Christy grinned wickedly. "Jarvis, is the Christmas Fund still open?"

"Ready and waiting, Miss Rogers."

"Can you send all the card information to my email?"

"It is now sent."

Lila and Shanta were staring at her with something akin to awe, so she hastily explained, "The first Christmas after I got adopted, Uncle Tony tried to give me a debit card with a thousand dollars on it! But after that, he just set up an account and put a little money in it so I could buy presents without asking for money. You guys can use it too, if you want."

"How much money?" Lila asked, eyes round as saucers.

"Um...I dunno. But enough to buy nice things."

Fifteen minutes later, the necklace was bought and set to be shipped to the Base, addressed to one Shanta Rose Mandal Banner-Romanoff.

"Now Baba." she said firmly. Glancing up, she queried in a mouse-like whisper, "Uncle?"

"Yes, miss?" Jarvis answered promptly.

"I buy for Baba now?"

In answer, the screen changed to show a list of popular Christmas presents for fathers.

"What's that?" Shanta asked, pointing at a long, wooden picture frame holder.

"You put pictures in it." Christy explained. "And then put it on a desk. You like it."

Shanta imagined Baba looking at pictures of her and Anish and Ma and smiling happily.

"Yes. Want buy."

Ten more minutes, and she had.

"They gonna like?" she asked, looking pleadingly at Christy.

Christy hugged her. "They're gonna love it. It's from you, that's why. I promise. Parents like anything you give them."

"Okay…"

"Now." Christy lowered her voice. "I think Wanda made cookies…"

* * *

That night, there was a bonfire. The kids had asked for it, and Tony had hemmed and hawed before Clint and Bucky threw up their hands and made one.

Now, Steve sat before the dying embers, as the little flames flickered bravely into the night.

Clint poked at the ashes with a stick. Everyone else had drifted into their rooms.

"So, Christmas again. This whole thing is going better than I expected."

Steve nodded. "Tony was nice to have us all. I just wish Sharon could be here. I won't see her til the twenty-eighth."

Clint grinned. "How's it goin'?"

In answer, Steve dug in his pocket and pulled out a small box.

Clint whistled. "That good, huh?"

"Exactly that good."

"Well, congrats." Clint leaned back and stretched. "Damn. We live such crazy lives. Did you ever think you'd be here?"

"No." Steve said honestly. "To be honest, I sort of expected to be dead by forty, before the serum. And during the War, I just wanted to survive. Now, I teach art classes on the weekends and I'm working on a comic book about my own 'adventures'. I've got a kid and maybe a wife."

Clint snorted. "If Sharon turns you down, I'll shoot her myself."

"Thanks. But, I mean...it's way better than I thought. Way more complicated, but better. Still hurts, though."

For a moment, the only sound was the fire cracking.

"Some trauma never goes away." Clint murmured. "And you wonder why you do your job. But we both know why."

"Yeah. We got kids; families. We got a reason to fight. And that's a hell of a better Christmas present than anything I've ever gotten under a tree."

"I'll drink to that. Later. Laura's got me down to two beers a day at Christmas. Less if I can. Says I need to watch my weight!"

Steve laughed. "We all need to stay fit. It's weird to have so much peace. But it's fragile…I guess that's why Christmas is so nice. The goodwill doesn't feel as fragile."

Clint threw back his head and gazed up at the stars. "Peace on earth, goodwill to men…" he muttered. "I hope it lasts."

"It's lasted since it was first declared." Steve said cryptically.

"Right."

"I mean it." Steve added, quietly. "The times change, but Christmas stays the same. With a blessing that lasts the whole year."

"I hope you're right about that, Rogers."

Steve smiled into the frosty dark. "I think I am."

* * *

**In case you didn't catch it or know, the title comes from the carol "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen".**

**vojnik dečak: "Sokovian" (Serbian) for "soldier boy"...according to GoogleTranslate. **

**Part two should be out sooner rather than later. Will include: Bruce and Natasha getting a family Christmas with their own kids, Pietro supervising ice-skating children, and a very sappy proposal.**

**Until then, I remain, Your Obedient Servant:**

**theoriginalbookthief, 07 ;)**

**(GO WATCH HAMILTON!)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello all! Christmas in July has become Christmas in August by about one day, but I've been traveling for the past two days and I think it can be forgiven. I am officially back in Thailand to begin my school year, but I have to quarantine in a government-approved hotel for two weeks first. Today is Day 1. Please pray for my sanity. This does, fortunately, mean that I have lots of time to write, so expect another chapter or two over the next two weeks.**

* * *

Chapter Eight: Let Nothing You Dismay, Part 2

Anish glanced at the plastic-wax figures, set inside the strange wooden house.

A man, a woman, and a baby lying in an animal feed trough. A shepherd with his sheep, a cow, a donkey, and three men that looked like princes.

He had watched as Christy had lovingly set it up in the Common Room, on everyone's first night at the Base. No one had said a word. Uncle Steve had looked very proud.

Baba had tried to explain the story, and he understood most of it. He had certainly heard stranger stories. But what didn't make sense was that Baba didn't believe it.

Why celebrate a holiday for a god you didn't worship?

"Interesting, huh?"

Anish jumped and spun around to find Sam standing behind him.

"I not touch, Uncle!" he blurted out.

"I know you didn't. It'd be okay if you did, they're only plastic. You won't break them."

Anish looked even more shocked. "Not touch the gods!"

Now it was Sam's turn to look shocked. "Don't touch...oh, Anish, it's not like...you don't worship them, see? No incense here. It's just s'posed to show what it might have looked like."

Anish frowned. "I can touch?"

"If you want, yeah. Christy set it up."

Slowly, Anish lifted the little baby-and-manger figure out of the stable.

"I ask Baba. He say ask you, and Uncle Steve, and Uncle Bucky. Because he does not know if it is true."

"Ohhhh. I see." Sam gently lowered himself down to the floor, beside Anish. "Did Bruce tell you the story?"

"He tell. But I not understand everything."

"Maybe I can explain a few things more."

"But Uncle...did he go away? He born...he go away?"

Sam thought for a long minute. "...we can't see him like a person. But he can see us."

"Like Santa?"

Sam laughed. "Who told you about Santa? Christy?"

"_Han_-yes. Christy and Cooper. But Christy say story is not real."

"No, the Santa story we tell isn't real. It's just a fun story."

Anish sat quietly, staring at the little baby figure.

"Why come?" he whispered. "Why come like baby?"

Slowly, Sam picked up the figure. "So he could grow up and know the hard things that happen to people. He came to us like...like why your mom and dad came to India. To help."

"He like Baba?"

Sam smiled. "Even better than your Baba."

Anish gave a little nod. "I think I like Christmas. Like make Ma and Baba happy."

"You get presents for them?"

Anish nodded again, ducking his head. "I do not tell. Uncle Tony help."

Refraining from any snide jokes, Same merely said, "I'm sure he's a great help. Do you wanna go outside? I think everyone else is playing tag."

Anish shook his head. "_Nā_, I stay here. Think."

"Alright, no pressure. Ask me if you have more questions."

At that, he gave the boy some space.

For a long time, Anish sat, staring into the solemn, painted eyes of the tiny baby. He didn't know why, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

He had no incense or fruit to offer, and Uncle Sam had insisted it wasn't that kind of altar. But he slipped to his knees anyway and pressed his palms together.

"Thank you for coming." he said in Bengali.

His heart felt strangely warm as he eased back into a sitting position. He told himself it was because Sam had started a fire.

But he didn't believe it for a second, in his heart.

* * *

It was just a bit past seven, the warm sunlight streaming through the window into Bruce and Natasha's room.

Tony, being the extravagant man that he was, had ordered small trees for everyone's personal rooms. The one in theirs was currently half-buried under presents.

Shanta was the first one awake. At first, she lay in bed, snuggled next to Anish. and watched the sunny back lawn of the base. Then, yawning, she flipped over in bed, coming face to face with the tree.

She squealed.

"Anish, Anish wake up!" she yelped. "Wake up, it's _Christmas_!"

Anish moaned loudly. "Shanta, leave me alone and let me sleep!"

"It's Christmas, we get presents!"

Seeing that her brother was not interested in waking up just yet, Shanta leaped out of bed and assailed her next target.

"Baba, Baba, it's Christmas!" she said, still in Bengali.

Bruce was rather more amenable than Anish to being woken out of a dead sleep. "Mm...good morning, _noyoner moni_. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Baba." Shanta whispered, a giant smile on her face. "Where is Ma?"

Bruce laughed and cuddled her close. "Ma went to make us some breakfast, and get one last surprise present."

"S'prise, Baba?"

"_Han_." Bruce kissed the top of her head. "Now, why don't you get the presents that you got me an' Ma?"

Shanta dashed over to the tree, while Bruce stood up and shook Anish gently.

"Merry Christmas, sleepyhead! Time to wake up!"

Anish groaned, but with less feeling this time. "Baba, so early!"

"Aren't kids supposed to wake up early on Christmas morning?" Came a voice from the door.

"Ma!" Shanta shrieked happily. "I wake up!"

"And then woke everyone else up, I see." Natasha said, setting a tray of eggs, toast, and bacon on the bed. The kids had quickly gotten used to American breakfasts over the last two months, and asked for bacon nearly every morning.

Shanta ducked her head. "Present, Ma?"

Natasha smiled and gently patted her daughter's shoulder. "Sure, Shanta, we can open presents. Let's just eat, first."

Shanta didn't take her eyes off the presents for a single second as she distractedly ate her food. Anish was only slightly less enraptured by the brightly-wrapped packages.

"Do you think we did alright?" Natasha whispered, anxiety poking through her calm mask.

Bruce kissed her quietly. "Don't worry. They'll love it all."

In short order, both children had wolfed down their breakfasts and were scrambling for their respective presents.

"Ma, this one for you!"

"Baba, you take!"

Bruce couldn't help bursting into laughter. "Don't you want your presents?" he asked, gesturing to the still-engulfed base of the tree.

Anish blushed, as though really taking in the tree for the first time.

"Baba...is all that for us?"

Bruce gently took three small packages from the base. "These are from me, for Ma, and this one is for me. Everything else is for you."

Shanta's eyes looked enormous. "So much…"

"All for you." Natasha repeated. "Do you want us to go first?"

Shanta nodded shyly, glancing at the packages clutched tightly in her little hands. "Ma, for you."

Natasha gently took the small box, wrapped as carefully as a six-almost-seven year old could. She tore off the green paper and found a brown jewelry box.

"Shanta, how did you…?"

"Jarvis-Robot help." Shanta said. "And Christy."

Bruce sighed deeply. "Tony's Christmas fund. I should have known."

Natasha gasped as she removed the lid. "Oh, Shanta! Honey how did you find this?"

"Christy find! But I like. It have...birthday stones!"

"Birthstones." Natasha echoed, fingering the brightly-colored gems. "One for each of us, huh? Did you snoop in the passports?"

"_Han_!"

Natasha hugged her tightly. "I love it. You're so smart! Do you want to give Baba his now?"

Shanta handed Bruce a larger package, hard, rectangular, and wrapped in green paper as well.

Bruce carefully tore off the paper. "A picture frame?"

"Han! Now you see us!"

Bruce smiled wistfully, touching the wooden frame. He was already imagining the pictures he would put in it.

"I love it, _noyoner moni_." he said, pushing his glasses into place.

Shanta was practically glowing with happiness. "Want say thank you. For adopting me."

Bruce cupped her cheek. "You and Anish are my best presents. But these are wonderful, too."

Anish was fidgeting, looking at his three very small packages. He knew it was wrong to be jealous of Shanta's presents. But his now seemed so...boring. Not at all worthy of his new family.

Natasha caught the look. "Anish, can I open mine now?"

"I-I...yes, Ma."

He handed her the square package, head ducked low.

Once more, Natasha ripped off the paper. Inside was a tiny, scale model-of herself. Complete with dual pistols.

"Is this 3-D printed?" she asked.

Anish nodded. "Uncle Tony show me how."

He handed the remaining packages to Bruce and Shanta. They opened them to reveal similar figures of themselves.

"Very impressive!" Bruce said, examining the little figure. "Of course, I hardly expect less if Tony is involved."

"It is enough?" Anish asked, eyes big and anxious.

Bruce hugged him tightly. "More than enough."

Shanta could barely take her eyes off her own figure. Natasha took that moment to start removing presents from under the tree.

"Alright, you two, it's my turn now."

Bruce's face lit up with a smile, rife with unholy glee. "And mine."

Ten minutes later, Shanta was busy alternately hugging her new doll and stuffed kitten. A whole set of play doctor's instruments was strewn in front of her, along with new clothes and shoes.

Anish's pile was similarly large. Three science experiment kits were in various states of unpacked, and he was trying to decide whether to try the volcano making one, or the rock candy one.

Bruce still wore the brightest smile Natasha had ever seen on him.

"Satisfied?" she asked.

"Yeah…" he whispered. "I don't think I've ever been so happy."

"Love is for children." Natasha whispered back slyly.

Bruce shook his head. "Is this just going to be the joke now, or…"

"Kiss me, dork."

Surrounded by the squeals and smiles of his children, Bruce happily complied.

* * *

"So, I'll get in around three on the 28th. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sounds great!" Steve enthused, trying to keep his voice sounding normal.

He failed.

"Your voice just cracked, Rogers. You getting a cold?"

"I don't get colds. Serum, remember?"

"Hmph." Sharon paused. "Are you planning something?"

"I am always planning something for my best girl." Steve said, for once keeping his voice smooth and even. "Just get up here, alright? Away from that DC politicking."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Sharon muttered. "I'll see you then. Give you updates for my ETA. See you soon, alright?"

"Yeah! Yeah...see you soon."

Hanging up the phone, Steve looked straight in Bucky's mocking gaze. "See ya soon!" he mimicked in a high falsetto.

Steve swiped at him. "Buzz off, Buck."

"Make me!" Bucky drawled, smirking. "My best friend is about to propose! No way I'm passin' up any opportunity to help."

"More like 'severely hinder'." Steve muttered dryly, sinking into the couch.

"Ignore him." Sam said, trying to sound like he was slightly less deranged than Bucky. "You got your plan in place?"

Steve nodded. "I make her dinner, candles, all romantic. Act like it's the big thing. Give her my present, probably get mine from her. Offer to take her on a walk through that spot in the trees that is gorgeous enough for a painting. I really should paint it…"

"Focus!" Sam said quickly.

"Right, right. Then, we look around, and when her back is to me, I take out the ring, get on one knee-"

"Sharon Margaret Carter, will you marry me?" Bucky cut in, clasping his hands dramatically.

Five seconds later, Sam had tucked his legs up on the couch to avoid the wrestling super soldiers on the floor in front of him.

"Children…" he sighed, going back to his book.

This was certainly going to be a very long next few days.

Finally, the two boys masquerading as grown men ceased their tussle. Bucky's lip was slightly split, but the look on his face was nothing close to apologetic. Both of them, naturally, had barely broken a sweat.

"Are you two puppies done?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Depends." Steve asked, glaring at Bucky. Bucky held his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright, I'll quit messin' with ya. Besides, Stevie, she's gonna say yes."

"I hope so." Steve muttered, unconsciously touching his left jacket pocket.

"Dude." Sam said patiently. "You know she will."

"...yeah, I do."

"So relax."

Steve sank once more onto the couch. "Alright. I know. I'm being paranoid."

Sam set his book to the side and shot Bucky a look. "Wanna talk about it?"

Steve gave a thin smile. "How did I know you were going to say that?"

"Because it's my catchphrase. Now, why would Sharon say no?"

Steve sighed, glancing between his two best friends. "Nothing ever goes...easy. With me. I haven't had this happy, charmed life. There's not a whole lot I can promise her besides chaos and uncertainty. My life is terrifying."

"She knows that." Bucky said patiently. "She's known that since you asked her to participate in an illegal prison heist."

"I know, I know...but marriage is so permanent. What if something happens?"

Bucky slashed at the air with his hands. "So it happens! And you two figure it out, because if nothing else, Steve Rogers, you know how to come out of something with your fists still flyin'."

Sam nodded. "She's a spy. An agent. You don't have to lecture her about risks. Besides, have you thought of the flip side? She's still working for the Feds. How do you feel about that?"

Steve looked mildly startled, like that fact had never quite sunk in.

"...then I guess we'll both have some sleepless nights." he said quietly.

Sam grinned. "Good man. Not gonna make her quit her job, or anything like that?"

"No!" Steve cried out hurriedly. "No, no, we talked about it, see? We'll sort out stuff when it comes up, but she ain't gonna stay home an' make pot roast an' vacuum. Does everyone forget that my Ma was a nurse?"

Bucky shook his head. "See, my mom was lucky, she didn't have to get a job. But when we were growin' up, lotsa kids' moms worked. Everyone acts like we were born after the war, when things apparently got good enough that more women could just stay home."

"Huh." Sam looked thoughtful. "I never thought of that."

"But Sharon's still gonna keep her job. I promised her that. She'll only quit if she wants to." Steve assured.

"So don't worry. She'll have ya. Just don't choke and forget your speech," Bucky said slyly.

Steve went back to staring at couch cushions, in lieu of starting yet another wrestling match.

* * *

Pietro glanced back at the brood of children currently under his care, and then around at the street. New York wasn't Sokovia, but busy cities still made him wary.

It was a cold, clear New Year's Eve, and several of their motley crew had traveled into the city to watch the ball drop that night. As a nice gesture, Pietro and Peter had offered to take all the kids skating at Rockefeller Center. This was a task easier said than done.

"_Bozhe moy_, what possessed me to do this?" Pietro muttered.

"Uh...because you said all the parents deserved time off?"

Peter Parker stood next to him, hands firmly in pockets and stamping his feet to keep warm.

Pietro scoffed. "I am too nice."

Christy sidled up to them both. "Can you guys help Lila and Nate get their skates on?

"_Da, da_. Lila, Nathaniel, come here!"

Even wearing a jacket, coat, knit hat, and gloves, Shanta still shivered as Christy tied her laces. Anish was equally cold, but he was still trying to maintain dignity.

"What if we fall?" he asked suspiciously, staring at the thin metal runners of his rental skates.

Christy shrugged. "You get up?"

"How!?"

Christy tightened Shanta's laces and tied them expertly. "You kneel down like this, and then push up with one leg. Or use the wall."

This explanation did not seem to make Anish any less nervous.

Cooper grabbed his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll help you. Everybody falls the first time."

Peter came over and lifted up Shanta. "Pietro and I can help the little kids on the ice. Get your skates on, too."

Christy nodded and started to tie her own laces. "Pietro, can we get hot chocolate later?"

Pietro, who had one hand on Lila and the other on Nathaniel, grunted in assent. "Yes, yes, we can go!"

Shanta was having a hard time getting steady on her feet. Peter was trying, but they both ended up flat on the ice barely a minute on the rink.

"Okay, let's….okay! Gimme your hand, kid. Yeah, that's right, that's it…"

"Too cold!"

Christy skated by. "Put her between your legs!"

Clenching his teeth, Peter shifted the girl's weight and gripped her shoulders.

"Let's try this again." he muttered. "Move your legs like you're walkin'."

Shanta started to pick her foot up.

"No, no, just...push forward. Look at your brother, see?"

Sure enough, Anish was gliding slow but steady along the side of the rink. Cooper skated close beside him, calling out encouragement.

Shanta sighed. "Anish always best."

Peter knew that feeling.

"Hey, look…I'll help you. You'll beat him around the rink, I promise!"

Shanta looked up, big brown eyes filled with hope. "Help me?"

"Yeah! I know what it's like to always feel left behind. But first we need to get you steady!"

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up slightly.

"Okay, straighten your legs, and push one side forward like this!" Peter pushed his right leg forward. Shanta did the same.

"Now other leg. Then, keep going. Right, left; right, left!"

Shanta bucked forward, legs slipping apart, but Peter kept his hold on her.

"You're doing it!" he cheered. "Keep going!"

Anish and Cooper zoomed by. Shanta gasped.

"Catch!" she cried, bucking forward.

"Whoa!" Peter cried, steadying her with some extra spider web.

They watched the two boys skate away.

"Shanta." Peter said quietly. "Just do what I told you. Keep going forward. And I'll do the rest, okay?"

"Okay…" Shanta said, looking confused. "I skate."

Taking a deep breath, Peter wrapped his webbing tight around Shanta's arms.

"Skate fast! I've got you, you won't fall."

At first, Shanta was just as awkward as before. But then, something seemed to break loose inside of her, and she rocketed forward.

"Go, go, go!" Peter cried. "Good job!"

They whizzed on, faster and faster, the other skaters left behind in a haze.

And then, they passed Anish and Cooper.

Shanta cheered loudly. "Anish! Bye-bye!"

Anish did a double take-and fell on his bottom.

"Ai!" he yelped. Cooper quickly helped him up quickly and they both leaned against the wall to get their balance.

Peter and Shanta were already long gone.

"We win Anish!" Shanta cried. "Thank you for help me!"

Peter grinned. "You're welcome, kid."

Christy skated by them. "Peter, no fair using your spider powers to beat people."

"I wasn't using it for me! I was helping a deserving citizen! That's what Spiderman does."

Christy rolled her eyes, but gave Shanta a thumbs-up.

Shanta beamed.

* * *

For once, the Base was quiet. Most everyone was in the city, ready to watch the ball drop from a closer distance.

But Steve had other plans.

Sharon was currently sitting on one of the Common Area sofas, a mug of hot cider in her hands. A homemade pot roast, with potatoes, carrots, and green beans, adorned the table.

The ring in his pocket felt like it had the weight of oceans.

Sharon sniffed appreciatively. "It's not every day your boyfriend cooks you a dinner like this. Are you sure there's no occasion?"

"Well, it is New Year's Eve." Steve said modestly, taking a pan of rolls out from the oven. "But really, I just wanted t' do something nice for my girl. Is that not allowed?"

"Oh, it's allowed. It's welcome! Where did you learn to make pot roast?"

Steve shrugged. "My first year unfrozen, Nat bought me a slow-cooker. It came with a recipe book and I just started trying everything. It was amazing what I could buy now."

"I guess there are a lot more choices to pick from." Sharon stood up and moved towards the table. "Or did you mean that you had more money now."

"Both." Steve admitted. He deposited the rolls onto the counter and arranged a few on a plate.

Sharon took the plate and set it on the table. "...did you ever go hungry as a kid?"

"No." Steve said, emphatically. "I went to bed with my stomach a bit empty, but Ma never didn't have something on the table. An' after that, it was Bucky's personal mission to make sure I didn't die."

Sharon smiled a bit. "He's a good friend. I'm glad you have him...and that he has you. And that you both have Sam."

"I've been uncommonly lucky in my friends." Steve said quietly. "I dunno how I got them all, but I'm glad for them. And I'm glad for you."

Sharon ducked her head a bit. "I'm more of a new development, I know."

"But you're a good development! And not that new. A little over a year."

Steve set the last thing on the table and pulled out a chair.

"A seat for the lady." he proclaimed. Sharon gave a mock curtsy and sat down.

"This is nice." she whispered. "Just to have the time with you. I love Christy and everybody and I'm glad Tony was able to have everyone together, but...it's nice, just the two of us."

"Did it ever bother you, that I had a kid?" Steve asked, serving up the roast.

Sharon shook her head. "No, never. I actually thought it was rather sweet. And she's a sharp kid, anyway. I'm glad that she's warmed up to me more. I think she thought I was going to waltz in like some fairy tale stepmother and monopolize your life."

"Yeah...I just told her that would never happen. Girlfriends are a good thing, but they shouldn't take up all your time."

Sharon nodded. "People put so much weight on romance. They forget that friendships and family relationships are equally as life-saving and good. We need all kinds of relationships to make a world."

Steve smiled. "I think so. Here, eat up."

"Gladly! This looks amazing, Steve."

For a few minutes, they simply ate in companionable silence, enjoying the good food and each other's company.

"So...what is the future for you guys?" Sharon asked. "Are the Avengers still a thing?"

Steve sighed. "Yeah, and no. We're still a _thing_, in that if something really goes haywire, we'll get back together an' go fight in a heartbeat. But SHIELD is gone, Thor is I don't even know where, and technically all of us that didn't sign the Accords are _persona non grata_."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Those Accords were never going to get ratified in the States. They broke about six different constitutional rights. And Ross was under severe investigation after _someone_ put in a tip that United States citizens were apprehended and imprisoned without trial."

Steve gave a ghost of a smile. "Still not sure if that was Tony, Fury, or both. I do know that Tony was furious about that."

"So the word of the day is just to lay low and see what happens?"

Steve shrugged. "Basically. So I'm making a comic book."

Sharon leaned forward, excited. "You mentioned that a few times. It's based on your war escapades?"

"Yeah, more or less. I can't tell everything, but Sam suggested it and I met with some publishers that were, naturally, thrilled to work with me. It's nice, being recognized for something besides fighting. The first volume should be ready by spring."

Sharon took his hand. "I'm so proud of you."

"F-for what?"

"For that...for everything. For making a life for yourself, with so much stacked against you."

Steve glanced away. "I never wanted fame. I just wanted to do the right thing, help people, have a quiet life. I wanted a family...now I got one."

In his mind's eye, he saw his carefully outlined plan for proposingl. A walk, the dark sky lit with stars, the frosty air around them.

But if he had learned anything from war, it was that plans were made to be broken. Especially if a better plan arose.

"Now I got one." he whispered again.

Sharon nodded, confusion on her face at his repetition. "Yeah, you do. And I'm happy for you."

"And you're a part of it!" Steve insisted. "I didn't really think I could ever get married. After Peggy...after everything. I thought marriage just wasn't something that was in my future. But then you turned up, spying-I mean _doing your job_-across the hall. And I felt like I finally had a woman in my life I could be comfortable with. Nat kept trying to push me on dates, but I wanted someone I could relax with. And that was you. For so long, I missed my own time, and I kept wanting to go home. But I forgot that I could make a home. And now I want to do that. I want to make a safe place in this...really not safe world. And I want to do it with you."

Sharon's eyes grew wide and she gave a tiny gasp as Steve slipped to the floor and pulled out a ring.

"Sharon Margaret Carter, will you marry me?"

Sharon gaped, her mind whirling in a thousand directions. But her head was nodding, almost without her mind realizing it.

"Yes…" she whispered. "Yes, I'll marry you, Steve Rogers."

Steve was beaming, eyes lit up like stars as he slipped the ring on her finger. "I-I hope you like this. I asked Nat for help."

Sharon gently touched the gold band, set with a solitaire diamond. "It's gorgeous. So elegant. And if you say 'like you', I will wring your neck."

Steve held up his hands in surrender. "I won't! Please don't kill me on our engagement night!"

"Alright, you're safe for now. On one condition."

"Name it."

"That you give me a kiss."

Steve smirked. "Is that an order, Agent?"

Sharon pretended to think, and then nodded. "It is. Captain."

"Well, I'm usually not too good at following orders...but this time I might make an exception."

Four hours away, in New York City, the ball dropped. 2018 had arrived.

Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter kissed as snow fell in soft waves just outside the window.

The Man Out of Time was no longer alone.

* * *

**Three of my friends are getting married in the Fall. I watched one of my best friends get proposed to this summer. I officially have weddings on the brain. Oh well, Write What You Know, and all that. It also just so happens that a lot of the filler before Endgame in my 'Verse involves people getting together.**

**Next time: Pepper has a secret. Tony is incredibly dense. More heart to hearts about fatherhood and the Avenger Women trolling Tony. **

**Reviews are diamond rings. (thank you to my guest reviewer for pointing out that I missed this last chapter, lol. For that one, reviews are Tony's Christmas Fund.)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Why yes, I did write this entire chapter with "Dear Theodosia" stuck in my head, thank you for asking.**

**But in all honesty, that song is perfect for Tony and Morgan.**

****TIMELINE NOTE** So, I pictured in my 'Verse Morgan being born before Infinity War goes down. This sets events of this chapter from January to July 2018. So in the ChristyVerse, the events of Infinty War will occur during 2019. This will still likely line up with the Endgame date of 2023 for...reasons. Reasons you will see.**

**I'm excited to write big, sprawling AU action fics again, but also petrified to write big, sprawling AU action fics again. **

**But enough of that. You came here for Baby Stark (doo, doo, doo, doo, doo...)**

* * *

Chapter Nine: Dear Theodosia

Pepper glanced for the tenth time at the little white pregnancy test.

Yup, those were definitely two lines, not one. After all this time, she was finally pregnant. The true mystery was why on earth it had taken so long.

_Tony is going to lose his mind._

Her own mind began to swim with possibilities. There were so many ways to do pregnancy reveals, after all. Should she buy baby clothes and leave them on the bed? Or maybe a baby toy? Write a card?

She frowned and touched her stomach unconsciously. A Stark baby required a special announcement, after all. And possibly it was her own internal sense of drama that wanted to make this into something big and grand.

That sort of thing suited Tony as well.

But suddenly, a wave of weariness swept over her. Not morning sickness, thank God, it was too early for that. But a sense of frustration at the pageantry that ruled so much of their lives.

She could understand why their wedding had been practically conducted in a secret bunker. Tony was over the fuss and paparazzi. Just because he knew how to play the game didn't mean he enjoyed playing it.

So instead, she made arrangements at their favorite bistro in the city: Tuesday night at 6 p.m. And then informed Tony that they had a dinner date.

_Any reason?_ He texted back.

_Just wanted to see you terrorize the waitstaff in person._

_Roger that. _

There was a pause, and then:

_So, about that lakehouse I mentioned..._

* * *

Tuesday night, sipping glasses of wine and enjoying the looks of amazed terror on the servers faces, Tony finally took the bait.

"Alright, I'll bite, Pep. I know we've been busy, but not that busy. You, unlike me, never do things without thinking. So what's up?"

Pepper rolled her eyes and took a bite of linguine. "You do everything after you've thought it over and come up with five ways it will go wrong, and decided it's worth it anyway, Anthony Edward Stark."

"...fair. But I'm still waiting for my answer."

Tony's voice was light but his face was nervous, so Pepper decided not to keep him in suspense.

"Tony...I'm pregnant."

For a long, long moment, the only sounds were the chatter of other patrons, and Tony's strangled breathing.

"...Tony?"

"P-pregnant." Tony repeated.

"Yeah. Pregnant. I missed my period, and then I missed it again, so I bought a test on Saturday and took it…"

"You waited three whole days to tell me?" Tony pouted. "I don't know whether to be annoyed or impressed. I could never keep a secret that long!"

Pepper smiled at him fondly. "I know, Tony."

Tony ran a hand through his hair. "Right. Right. So, ah, I think that lakehouse I showed you is, really, an important step, for Baby Stark growing up away from all the insanity of New York City, and then I need to open a college fund, of course they'll get scholarships…"

"Tony. Tony!" Pepper grabbed his hand across the table. "We have eight months. It's fine. We have enough time, I promise."

Tony's eyes were burning with feverish intensity. "Eight months? So due in…?"

"I need to make an appointment and go in for a check up, but likely in the summer. Mid-July."

"July…" Tony breathed out the word like a prayer. "Summer baby. That's good, she'll always have nice weather for birthdays."

"She?"

Tony looked away. "I'll love the kid no matter what, but I want a girl. Stark men...it's too complicated. I want a girl."

Pepper nodded in understanding. "Then that's what we'll hope for."

"What about names? I mean...Maria?"

"I like Morgan." Pepper said quietly.

Tony did a double take. "Morgan? Like your crazy uncle Morgan?"

"It's more of a girls' name nowadays. Like Ashley. You'd never see a boy named Ashley anymore. Besides, it either means 'sea defender' or 'famous magician."

Tony blinked. "You've thought about this a lot."

Pepper shrugged. "It sounds pretty."

"Morgan H. Stark…" Tony mumbled. Now it was Pepper's turn for a double take.

"H? What's the H for, Howard? You are not naming a girl Howard. I know you want to make peace with your dad, but there is no way…"

"Not Howard." Tony cut in, shaking his head. "Give me some credit, Pep. But I like the initial so I need something to fit."

"...Haley? It sounds pretty."

Tony shook his head and stared off in thought before snapping his fingers.

"Hope."

"...Hope. Morgan Hope Stark." Pepper lit up with a brilliant smile. "I like it."

Tony looked almost shy. "You do? I-If it's stupid, we can keep trying…"

"No need. It's not stupid. Morgan Hope Stark. But you'd better _hope_ it's a girl, Tony. What _would _we name a boy?"

"Edwin." Tony answered instantly.

Pepper wrinkled her nose. "Edwin? It sounds so...posh."

"It was Jarvis' name. The real Jarvis." Tony glanced at his plate, trying too hard to be nonchalant.

Pepper relented. "Edwin is alright. What about Jarvis as a name? A middle name. I always liked Aiden for a boy, and it sort of sounds like Edwin."

"Aiden Jarvis Stark." Tony repeated slowly. A huge smile split his face. "I like it. But I hope we don't have to use it."

"Tony...I understand, but look at Peter. You're fine interacting with boys!"

Tony shook his head. "It's not the same. He's not a Stark, not by blood. He doesn't have the stubbornness, the moodiness."

"I beg to differ, did you _see_ him at all last summer?"

"He's not...God, Pep. A kid. Are we really having a kid?"

A lost, frightened look flitted across Tony's face. A look of terror and hope and desperation, all rolled together.

"What if I mess them up?" he whispered.

Pepper took both his hands firmly. "You won't. You'll make robot toys and build forts and stay up too late making hot chocolate. And never, ever be too busy."

Tony's eyes were wide, like a little boy's, deep brown and full of angst. "Promise?"

Pepper leaned over and kissed him gently. "I promise."

Tony leaned into the kiss for a long while, and then pulled back. His face was still full of wonder.

Their stolidly patient waiter came by to ask if they wanted dessert.

"Uh, yes." Tony managed, somehow, to keep a straight face. "What's _your_ favorite?"

The man explained that they had a very nice cinnamon apple tart a la mode with brandy butter. Tony nodded seriously.

"Then, uh, one of those, for all the staff. On me! And one for my wife, 'cause she's having a _baby_!"

"Tony!" Pepper cried, hastily looking around.

The waiter, to his credit, did not make a scene. "Yes, sir! I'll go tell the kitchen and bring one out to you in a minute!"

Tony gave his trademark 'press grin' and thanked the man as he scurried away.

Pepper groaned. "Was that necessary?"

"Absolutely. Categorically. My kid is gonna begin life being generous."

"Or being spoiled by their father."

"Nah, being generous. They're not gonna be like some Hollywood kid."

"No," Pepper sighed. "But they are going to be all Stark."

* * *

They had to buy the lakehouse. Tony insisted he did not want his child being raised at the Avengers' HQ, despite Steve's protests that Christy had turned out fine.

Clint, however, gave him a nod of quiet understanding.

"You want her out of the limelight, huh?" the archer asked, as they sat on the Bartons' now screened-in porch. Their wives were inside, discussing morning sickness remedies.

Tony nodded, sipping from a mug of hot cider. "I spent every moment of my childhood dogged by the press. I don't want my kid having the same issues."

"Fair." Clint leaned forward. "So how are you doing, Tony? Honestly?"

"Uh, well, Pepper and I discussed colors for the nursery this morning. We're thinking lilac…"

"Oh cut the crap, Tony, I mean about havin' a kid. You were always the one saying you'd be a horrible father and all that."

Tony flinched, and said nothing.

"Tony, I get it. I literally ran away to join the circus. My old man…" Clint blew out a shaky breath. "My old man was the meanest drunk alive. Used to take all his anger out on me an' my brother. When Laura told me she was expectin' Cooper, I swear I wanted the ground to open up to swallow me."

"...how did you...figure out how to operate it? Him. Cooper, I mean?"

Clint smirked. "Kids are a sight different from robots, Stark. I did a lot of reading. But no book or site or blog can ever prepare you for the moment you first hold your kid in your arms. It's like magic. Something clicks, and you know you'd die before you let anythin' happen to them."

Tony still looked unsure. "I know my dad cared about me. But he still put his work before me. How do you...not do that?"

Clint blew out a breath. "It's hard. I'm not gonna lie. I guess the trick is, deciding what's more important at the end of the day. I've done a lot of stuff for a lot of missions and battles. But nothing is more important than watching my kids sleep at night."

Said kids were currently engaged in a sort-of game of touch football. It was 'sort-of' because Nathaniel was still too little to participate properly, and Lila kept dropping the ball. Cooper looked mildly annoyed.

Clint laughed, and then sobered a bit. "There is nothing I would trade for this, right now. Your dad did a lot of stuff, won awards, hobnobbed with the best...but did he have this?"

Tony regarded the scene before him, and then considered his own lonely childhood.

"The only person I knew as a kid who had this was Jarvis." he said finally.

"The AI?" Clint frowned.

Tony batted impatiently at the air. "No, no, our butler. He was happily married and the biggest reason I'm not anymore screwed up than I am."

Understanding cleared in Clint's eyes. "Ah...okay. Is that why you named…?"

Tony nodded shortly. "He was a great man. Always knew I could do something great, too. He was there for everything…"

"An' who do you wanna be?" Clint asked. "Your dad, or Jarvis? I think you already know."

"Yeah...you know, my dad used to say that no amount of money ever bought a second of time. I really wish he'd taken his own advice."

"It's not too late for you to take it."

Tony started and then laughed, shortly. "Guess you're right." He scrubbed his hand over his face. "I just feel like I've wasted so much time. Time I'll never get back. And what I have is running away so fast…"

"Hey, easy...deep breaths." Clint leaned forward. "I forget you've got anxiety, too."

"I'm not going to keel over, Barton."

Clint snorted. "Don't hate mental health care. It'll bite you in the ass if y' don't take care of yourself."

"Duly noted. Why is everyone on this team becoming a therapist?"

"Because we're all either screwed up or getting there."

"...fair." Tony gave a half-smile. "Thanks, Clint."

"Don' mention it. Look, I'm no expert, but I do get it, bein' a dad when you didn't have a great one. If you ever need to talk...you know where to find me. Pepper said something about you buying a house?"

"Well, it's more of a property, since it's nowhere near anyone else. It's quiet, peaceful. Right by a lake, made of wood. Like a farmhouse. I guess you could say copied you."

Cling smirked. "You're welcome for the inspiration. Feel free to ask for tips."

"Oh, I don't think...well, actually…"

Fifteen minutes later, Pepper glanced out the front door to find them deep in a discussion of whether it was worth it to buy a jet-ski.

She quickly went back into the house.

* * *

"And...congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Stark, it seems you're having a little girl!"

Pepper could see Tony visibly breathe a sigh of relief. She squeezed his hand.

"If you look at the monitor, you can see her face." the doctor continued.

Tony leaned in to stare at the footage.

"Hey, Morgan." he whispered. "Hang in there, okay? You'll be out soon and Mommy and I will have your room painted. I hope you like purple, we already bought the paint."

Pepper snorted. "And you are very lucky that gamble paid off."

"Boys can have purple rooms." Tony said absently, still absorbed in the image of his daughter.

"Yes, but typically not lilac purple with silver flowers, like your very elaborate 3-D rendering."

Tony glanced up briefly. "You were snooping."

"You left your laptop out!" Pepper said, laughing softly. "Oh, Tony, she's perfect. Hi, Morgan!"

The doctor had discreetly faded into the background as both parents dissolved into cooing.

The next day, every member of the Avengers received an email with ultrasound photos. Including Nick Fury.

No one had the heart to protest.

* * *

"Thank you for coming to help." Pepper said sincerely, gazing around the wonderland that was IKEA.

Laura smiled. "No problem. I'm just glad this place has a play area where I can drop Nathaniel, and Clint is home to meet Lila and Cooper off the bus."

"Does it feel weird not to have kids with you?"

"...honestly, yes. But a good weird. It's been nice the last couple of years to have daily conversations with grown adults not over Skype."

Pepper laughed. "I imagine so. How...how did you manage? Out on your own, isolated?"

"It was hard." Laura admitted, as they walked briskly through the 'showroom' into the children's area. "But I knew what I signed up for when I married Clint. When I was pregnant with Cooper, Phil helped him find our house. He was so worried."

"Tony is exactly the same way." Pepper glanced at a sleek white cradle. "What do you think of this?"

Laura looked it over. "It's nice. You said lilac and silver for the colors, right? It should fit in. What exactly are you looking for?"

"A crib, of course. Mattress, blanket, rocking chair...Tony's building her a mobile, but probably some stuffed animals…"

"That's enough to start. When they're very little, there isn't much they need. The whole world is stimulating enough. Although, you should buy books, as well. Picture books, but also ones to read."

"Oh, of course! I've got a very long list at home."

"Pepper, what about this for a blanket?" Laura asked, picking up a soft white fleece, with gray flower designs and red stitched edges.

Pepper lit up. "It's so soft, it's perfect!"

They located a rocking chair next, which Pepper naturally tested to be sure it was comfortable enough.

"If I have to be up at three in the morning, I might as well have a nice cushion." she mumbled, giving the chair an experimental rock.

"You won't actually die of exhaustion, you'll just think you will." Laura assured her. "And she might be a good sleeper. Cooper was an angel, always woke up right for his feedings and went right back to sleep. Lila was...feisty. Nate was somewhere in between. Thank God Clint was good about getting up. He really is like a hawk; he hears everything."

"I expect Tony will sleep with a baby monitor stapled to his ear." Pepper said, standing up.

"And how are you feeling about all this?"

Pepper smoothed the bright cushion fabric. "I don't know. I'm everything. I'm ecstatic to have a kid. I always wanted a kid. But I...I worked hard to be where I am. Tony doesn't run Stark Industries, I do. And to be a woman, so powerful...I don't want that taken away."

"I didn't think I was going to be a stay-at-home mom, at first. But right now, it's the best option. When the kids are older, I may go back to work."

Pepper looked away, her natural confidence cracking. "I want to raise my kid, too. I want her to know that I love her and I'm never too busy for her. But I also want to keep my career intact. Is that wrong?"

"No!" Laura shook her head fiercely. "You _have_ worked hard to be where you are. It might look different, with a kid, but that doesn't mean you have to give it up and stay home if that isn't where your heart is. Look at Natasha, for heaven's sake. Actually, look at _Steve_. The man was a single parent for five years. He didn't stop being an Avenger. He just made plans for Christy in the middle of it."

Pepper gave a slow nod. "That is true. I guess I'm just nervous about balancing it all."

Laura placed her hand on Pepper's arm. "The fact that you're concerned about this already proves you're going to be a great mom. The basic test of parenthood is caring about your child. Everything else stems from that love, including the desire for improvement. You're going to do great."

Pepper smiled, small and unsure. "Thanks."

"I'm here if you need a babysitter. You have a whole extended Avengers' family that will adore babysitting Little Stark. You're not alone, Pepper."

Taking a deep breath, Pepper marked down the model number of the rocking chair with careful precision.

"I'd like to look at the toys, and then, would you like to get lunch before you have to pick up Nate?"

Laura gasped dramatically. "Lunch without a small child! What other wonders does this day hold?"

"You ought to bring him something, though, or he might be mad you had fun without him."

Laura laughed. "I'll get him McDonald's on the way home. I love him, but this food at these prices is wasted on him. I hope Morgan has more elegant taste."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Since she's a Stark, she is fated to it, unfortunately. Now, should I get her a wolf or a golden retriever stuffed animal?"

* * *

Baby Morgan chose to make her appearance on an excruciatingly humid day in mid-July.

Pepper knew her contractions had started almost before she woke up.

Her mistake was telling Tony.

"W-we, uh, we need to go to the hospital!" he cried, fumbling around for clothes.

Pepper stopped him. "It's not time. My contractions are coming slow. I'm not in active labor. Remember, from the class?"

Tony stopped. "Right. Uh, so how long…?"

"Six to twelve hours." Pepper replied gently.

Tony groaned.

"Hey, I'm the one having a baby! Why don't you make sure my hospital bag is packed? I'm going to take a bath…"

* * *

That day was the longest of their lives. And unfortunately, it was about to get longer.

Pepper's contractions were still slow, long after twelve hours had passed. A phone call to the hospital confirmed that she needed to come quickly

Tony secured her bag in the car, informed everyone he could think of via text, and drove down the road to the nearest hospital like a man possessed.

Pepper grimaced. Tony caught the grimace.

"A-are you okay? Do you need painkillers? I have Tylenol…"

"Tony, I love you, and I know you're trying to help, but please just drive."

Tony gulped. "Y-yes, ma'am, driving, driving, that's me…"

Rhodey and Happy met them at the hospital entrance.

Pepper was hustled into a bed, to continue her long wait. It was long enough that the waiting room was soon packed with almost all of the Avengers, including Peter and May Parker.

After the doctor looked her over, Tony was called in.

"Mr. Stark, it seems that your daughter has the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck."

Tony, to his credit, managed not to collapse.

"I-Is she gonna choke?"

"No, and it's not an uncommon thing. But that, along with the fact that labor is not progressing, means that it's probably best for your wife to have a C-section."

Pepper gasped.

"You're not in any danger, Mrs. Stark, but it will be better for you and for the baby if we do this."

Pepper nodded, reaching for Tony's hand. "Do it, then."

The procedure was quick. Pepper was whisked away to an operating room. Tony refused to leave her side.

"I'm getting this on film." he kept muttering, trying to distract himself from the fact that they were _cutting into his wife._ "You're gonna be able to see her the minute she's born, Pep, I promise."

Pepper nodded. She nodded through the spinal anesthetic, and the prep work, and the doctor explaining the procedure.

In the end, all it took was one swift cut.

Morgan Hope Stark entered the world screaming bloody murder, with eyes wide open.

Pepper was laughing and crying as the nurse handed over her cleaned up daughter.

"She's perfect, Tony, just like we said. Oh...hi, Morgan…"

For once in his life, Tony Stark had absolutely nothing to say.

* * *

"I'm sorry, sir, but we can't let anyone but close family in to see your wife just yet…" the doctor said, looking dubiously at Peter and Christy.

"They're my niece and nephew." Tony said firmly. "Any questions?"

The doctor sighed. "No, sir...here, right this way. Please be quiet and don't disturb…"

Tony cut in. "Yeah, please don't condescend to them, alright? They've lived through more hell than you, I'm sure."

"Um, Mr...Uncle Tony? It's alright…" Peter piped up. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes I do." Tony said flatly, an arm around both of them. "You're almost my adopted son and Christy has been counting the hours til she could meet Morgan."

"I have not…" Christy mumbled. "Besides, Lila and Cooper and Nat-Nat and Shanta and Anish want pictures."

Peter was too stunned at the words 'adopted son' to offer any further commentary.

Christy glanced down the hallway, trying not to think about the last time she was in a hospital. It was weird to be here for something happy.

_It's okay...no one's dying. It's a baby, it's a good thing..._

Tony caught her wide eyes and tense shoulders.

"And heaven forbid we disappoint my other nieces and nephews." he said quickly, steering them along. "Take as many pictures as you want."

He led them into Pepper's room. Morgan was cuddled against her chest, fast asleep.

Pepper smiled. "Hi, you guys, come see her."

Peter and Christy inched obediently toward the bed.

"Her hair is dark like Uncle Tony." Christy whispered, unclenching herself a little.

"Her eyes are brown, too." Pepper added. "She'll look very much like Tony."

"I-I'm sure she'll look like you a little too, ma'am." Peter said politely, obviously in awe of the tiny baby.

Pepper gave a weak laugh. "It's alright. I'm sure she'll take after me in something, too."

"I can't touch her, right?" Christy asked.

"You can touch her hand. Just be gentle."

Slowly, Christy reached out one pointer finger and barely grazed Morgan's tiny fist.

"Hi, baby…" she whispered seriously. "I'm your cousin. Welcome to the family. We're kinda insane, but we all love you lots. This is your big brother Peter. He's already your slave."

Peter jerked. "What?! I am not!"

Christy smirked. "You are. You'd do anything for her. You keep staring at her like she's gold."

"She's a Stark baby! She's...she's perfect."

"It's not easy being an only child." Pepper cut in. "I'm sure she's going to need a big brother to show her the ropes."

Peter blushed. "Alright...hi, Morgan. Get some sleep, huh? The world is pretty exhausting."

A few moments later, the doctor insisted that Pepper be left alone to rest. Fortunately, Christy was able to take some good pictures for everyone else in the waiting room.

Everyone was duly impressed.

"You got a good lookin' kid, Tony." Rhodey said, giving him a firm shoulder clasp.

"Yeah, good thing her mom is gorgeous, right?"

Steve snorted, holding Christy close. "Tony, she looks exactly like you."

"Poor Pepper." Natasha snarked.

Shanta tugged on Tony's shirt. "Uncle, baby come home, now?"

"No, Shanta, not for a couple days." Bruce helpfully answered. "The doctor needs to make sure the baby and Auntie Pepper are okay."

Shanta looked highly disappointed. She and Anish had arrived too late to come back with Christy and Peter.

"You can look at the pictures lots until then." Christy said comfortingly.

Tony looked around the waiting room, shaking his head. "I cannot believe everyone showed up."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Believe it, Tony. And congrats, by the way."

Tony sighed. "Nat? Is it supposed to feel this amazing? It feels like it should be illegal to be _this_ happy."

"Tony...trust me. This is normal, and you deserve it. Just enjoy the moment."

* * *

Slowly, the crowd in the waiting room trickled out, leaving Tony free to return to Pepper.

"Well, Mrs. Stark-Potts." he whispered. "You did it. May I possibly steal our daughter from you?"

"Mm…" Pepper mumbled.

"...I'm gonna take that as a yes."

Tony gently extricated Morgan from Pepper's grip and carried her over to the window.

"So, uh...I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm your dad."

Morgan slumbered away.

"God...I can't believe you're here. You've really got my eyes, you know."

He cleared his throat.

"I gotta say, I know babies are supposed to cry, but I really hope you never cry again, because that was just depressing to hear."

Morgan stirred a bit. Tony felt his heart melt.

"Every day is for you now. I hope you know that. God, I never imagined myself as the_...doting dad,_ but here we are, I guess."

He sighed.

"I think I know what Barton was talking about now. That's your Uncle Clint, by the way. You'll meet him later. You'll meet everyone later…"

He settled into a horribly uncomfortable hospital chair, shifting Morgan's weight.

"Hopefully you'll grow up and do something great. Scratch that, I know you will. You have an amazing mother and a genius father. You'll knock everyone's socks off. But I just want you to know that I love you. Okay, kid? No matter what, I love you."

He glanced down. He could swear that was a smile on Morgan's face.

He smiled back.

"Morgan H. Stark, welcome to the world."

* * *

**"We'll bleed and fight for you...we'll make it right for you..."**

**Kids have a wonderful way of putting everything into perspective. I had issues with Endgame, but one thing I completely approved of was Morgan H. Stark. It was such a natural progression in Tony's arc of learning to live for something besides himself. Also, RDJ had such precious chemistry with the little actress!**

**Next chapter will be the last chapter of filler before the ENDGAME OF DOOM. It involves a lot of Steve and Sharon sorting their lives out and Bucky and Sam sorting their lives out, and really is just a lot of set up. But there's a wedding! (Again, lol.) **

**But until then (here's a throwback) reviews are wonderful things! See you all soon!**


	10. Chapter 10

**IT. IS. DONE!**

**Final chapter of happy, fluff funtimes in Domesticity Land. I've enjoyed this romp, getting back into writing after a lot of starts and stops. I hope you enjoy this epilogue. **

**A few reminders on deviations in my 'Verse:**

**1) After Civil War, Scott did not actually get arrested. My take is that the Sokovia Accords would never actually be ratified in the US (come on, we never even joined the League of Nations after WWI, an organization our OWN PRESIDENT proposed. Plus, it breaks several Constitutional rights.) and that all those involved in Germany would be pardoned, due to the combined influence of Nick Fury and Tony Stark. I imagine the events of Ant Man and the Wasp still going down, just without the whole "Scott under house arrest" thing.**

**2) Loki is actually a good guy now. Still a trickster, but a good guy. Also, Frigga is not dead.**

* * *

Chapter Ten: Get a Little Place in Brooklyn and Figure It Out

Bucky stood up and clinked his spoon against the crystal-cut glass. "A toast to the groom! An' the bride, but I'm more qualified t' speak on the groom."

A ripple of laughter echoed around the rented-out restaurant.

Steve had never forgotten the hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant he and Sharon had frequented on their first date. They had gone back a few times, enough to know the owners and become fond of the place. It was a bit cramped for a wedding reception, but no one really minded. The service, food, and quiet atmosphere made up for it.

Steve groaned and hid his head in his hands.

"Oh, no you don't." Sharon hissed, prying his hands off his face.

"Listen to the speech, Dad!" Christy echoed, tugging at his arm.

"I'm listenin', I'm listenin'!" Steve muttered good-naturedly. His face was already tomato red in anticipation.

Bucky's voice rang out, confident and strong. "Picture the scene. A li'l punk, that's me. Six years old. My sister is four. Some local asshole kids decided to pick on her. I was gettin' us Italian ice from th' cart up the street, so I didn't see."

Wanda, who'd had the privilege of seeing this memory firsthand, smiled slightly.

'_I know where this is going'. _she sent to Pietro.

'_Does it end with broken noses?'_ he sent back.

"Next thing I know, Becca comes sprinting up t' me with her coat all torn an' hair messy, sayin' these boys messed with her, an' some other kid defended her. An' now they're gonna kill the other kid. She dragged me back, before I could pay for the ices! An' then I saw a kid, blond an' skinny an' scrappy, whalin' on a boy twice his size. I thought he was Becca's age!"

"I wasn't that small…" Steve protested.

"Yes you were, I've seen pictures." Sharon murmured.

"I knew right then an' there that no matter what happened, I wanted to be that kid's friend. Anyone who would be that brave-an' that _stupid_-was okay in my book."

Bucky paused, and cleared his throat.

"A lot of years and a lot of things have passed since that day. Neither of us are the same people we once were. But I'm proud to say that inside this fine, muscled specimen you see before us all, there is still that scrawny punk from Brooklyn, too stubborn to back down from a fight. An' I'm still followin' him."

Steve looked about to physically combust from a mix of pride, happiness, and embarrassment.

"Congrats, Sharon. I hope I'm not too biased to say so, but you got yourself a good one. He's a hell of a father an' friend, an' I think he'll be one hell of a husband. Good luck to you both! You're gonna need it!"

He sat down amid the cheers and whoops that filled the dining room.

"Thanks, jerk…" Steve managed to whisper.

Bucky clasped his shoulder. "You're welcome, punk. I mean it, you two are gonna need all the luck you can get!"

Sam, who was sitting close, muttered, "I could say the same thing about you an' Wanda."

Bucky glared, but the words had the desired effect. He sipped his drink and settled for grinning at Steve instead of outright tormenting him.

And then Christy stood up.

She almost froze when her uncertain spoon tapping worked almost _too_ well to quiet the room.

"A-a toast!" she managed, eyes darting nervously. Her hands trembled as they gripped a piece of lined notebook paper.

Everyone grew obligingly still.

"I-I...I haven't known my dad as long as some people have. But I know a few things. I know he secretly listens to the Beatles when no one is around. I know he cuts sandwiches diagonal, always. And I know he's the best dad in the whole world."

Steve could hear, as though in a dream, a strange choking sound emerge from his throat.

"I didn't have a dad when I was really little. My birth dad was a soldier, too, and he was KIA when I was two. I used to imagine I'd have a dad, but I didn't know what it would be like. But the first day I came home, I knew. It felt like not being afraid. Because I knew that no matter what happened, someone would be there to save me when I fell down."

Her eyes roamed over to Sharon.

"I didn't think I wanted another mom. I already had one, and she was great. She would play hide-n-seek with me, and sing to me at bedtime. She made really good spaghetti. But...but sometimes life isn't fair, and bad things happen to good people. She died. S-she died, and I thought that was it. But then I met Sharon…"

Sharon gave a soft gasp and looked proud.

"She said it was okay that I didn't want another mom. And I think...I think she knew what I didn't know back then, that it wasn't that I didn't want a mom, it was that I didn't want to forget my first one."

Christy took a steadying breath. There were very few dry eyes left in the room.

"But I won't forget. A very wise man once told me that moving on doesn't mean not missing. It just means finding other people to love, too. S-so, Dad...and Mom, I love you guys. Happy Wedding Day. I hope you have a lot more together. But whatever happens, we're together. To the end of the line and back again. Thank you."

As she took her seat, the room rang with even louder applause. Steve took the moment to gather Christy tight in his arms.

"Thank you, sweetheart…" he whispered, vision blurred. "Thank you…"

"I-I mean it…" Christy whispered in a thick voice. "I meant all of it…"

"I know, baby, I know…"

Sharon moved a gentle hand onto her shoulder, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Thank you, Christy."

Christy nodded. "Y-you're welcome." She took a deep breath and steadily drank a sip of water. "I-I don't wanna cry anymore, though."

Sharon laughed. "Alright, that's alright, no crying. Today's a happy day."

* * *

Bucky hauled yet another box out of the Mansion and into the waiting moving van.

"Damn, Steve, what is half this crap?" he grumbled good-naturedly.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Bedding, jerk. Stop acting like you don't have a vibranium arm and get movin'. It's not that much-just my stuff and Christy's."

"And Sam's." Bucky said, straight faced. "And he _would_ make things extra heavy just to spite me."

Steve shook his head. "You really gonna be alright here on your own, pal?"

Bucky nodded. "I will. Besides, I won't be alone, Wanda and Pietro are gonna be here, too."

"Just keep it classy, jerk. No babies."

Bucky slugged him in the arm. "As if! She'd throw me across the room! We already decided to wait on that, take it slow. We wanna enjoy the fun parts of goin' steady."

"I'm glad." Steve said sincerely. "It's been a long road for both of you. And I'm glad for Sam, too. He's got his Masters and apparently the VA was screaming for licensed counselors. He's even looking to start his own practice on the side."

"Yeah, he told me. Apparently he and Nakia are also talking once a week about the center in Oakland."

Steve grinned. "His Highness better watch his girl."

"Nah, ain't like that. But I think he likes helping."

"I know…" Steve gave a sober nod.

"So, where's Christy's stuff?"

"She's still 'downsizing'." Steve looked a bit miffed. "Wanda is helping, thankfully."

Bucky shrugged. "She's got a lot of toys. She wanna give some away?"

"Yeah, which is good. It's just takin' a while."

Bucky headed back towards the house. "Well, I'll just keep loading."

Upstairs, Christy was gazing at a large pile of stuffed animals, biting her lip in concentration.

Wanda sighed. "Christy…"

"I know!"

"You do not need thirty-three stuffed animals."

"But some of them were gifts!"

"The people who gave them will not be offended. Pick seven."

Christy pouted. "Why seven?"

"Because it was the first number I thought of."

Christy carefully sorted through the pile. "Okay. Stevie the Ameribear, Jamie the Bucky Bear, Max the Dog, Leo the Lion, Natka, Simba the Tiger…oh! And my lullaby Bunny."

She gently picked up a rather sad pink rabbit with white ears and a pull-down cord.

"Mom got this for me when I was a baby."

Wanda nodded in understanding. "Then you must keep it always."

Christy carefully packed the stuffed animals in a large box.

"Alright...now, on to Legos."

* * *

"Do you really gotta go, Christy?" Lila asked, clinging to her hand.

They stood on 'Avengers' Hill', looking down at the Barton house. The August air was sticky, filled with the smell of wet grass and honeysuckle.

Christy tried to smile, but it came out wobbly. "It's easier for Sharon's job. And I can see my friends."

"But _we're _your friends!"

"No, we're cousins."

"Not technically." Cooper said, smiling a little.

Christy rolled her eyes. "But we _are_. We're family. That's what Aunt Tasha always says. We had to make our family, but it doesn't mean it's less of a family."

"Okay, so we're cousins. But that's even better, because family comes back to each other, more than just friends. Besides, Uncle Bucky is still gonna be here."

Nathaniel made a face. "I wanna move to the city, too!"

"But then you'd have to leave all of us." Cooper said practically.

"You can visit." Christy assured, flitting her eyes every which way, trying to drink in the scene around her.

_Memorize the grass, the curve of the hill, the way the sun hits the windows. The porch swing, the flowers, the sky against the trees. You don't know when you will see it again._

She swallowed hard, attempting to dislodge the lump in her throat.

_I hate goodbyes._

Cooper could see the look on her face changing. He grabbed her hand.

"D'you wanna go to the treehouse?"

"...yeah. I do."

They ran down the hill, Cooper holding tight to her hand on one side, Lila on the other, and Nathaniel puffing along as best he could.

It was the end of an era, but not of a bond.

* * *

Steve took a slow glance around the apartment, beaming ear to ear.

"Kind of a step _down_. " Sam teased. "Going from a full house to an apartment in New York. I can _feel_ the three-fourth's scale…"

Steve shook his head. "I have a home. My home. With my daughter and my wife."

"And maybe another, eventually?"

Steve batted at him, turning red. "Sam, seriously…"

"Alright, I kid, I kid." Sam crossed his arms. " I'm happy for ya, Steve. Honestly. You deserve all this and more."

Steve smiled, his eyes lit up and radiant. "Thanks, Sam. For everything. You gonna be alright on your own?"

Sam laughed. "You forget I lived on my own for years before you people dragged me into this soap opera family. Besides, I live five minutes' walk. Two, if you take the elevator."

Bucky had teased him endlessly for getting an apartment in the same building as Steve and Sharon, but the prices were decent and the rooms were nice. When you found those things in New York City, you did not pass them up.

Steve grinned at the joke. "Fair point. But you deserve your own space. Thank you for staying with us...after everything in Germany an' Wakanda, I wouldn't have blamed you for going off on your own."

Sam frowned. "And leave you sad sacks to your own devices? Please. I am still the only sane man and I will take that title to my _grave_." He softened. "Besides, I care about you guys. Call me stubborn, but I never back down from a fight I think I can win-and even some I don't think I can."

Steve stuck out his hand. "Well, I'll let you go get settled. Thanks for helpin' with the boxes."

"No problem." Sam said, shaking the offered hand. "Don't worry, I'll be here. But this is your place, Rogers. An' your family. Enjoy it."

"I will." Steve's gaze strayed into the living room, where Sharon and Christy were arranging furniture. "I absolutely will."

* * *

"Passports?"

"Check."

"Tickets?"

"Check."

"Fifty-three suitcases?"

"Ch-" Bruce stopped mid-word and laughed. "_Six_ suitcases, check."

Natasha shook her head in astonishment. "Six. How the hell do we have six?"

"Half of it is our fault. We did buy a lot of stuff. At least this isn't like at Christmas."

"Spare me the amount this is going to cost in baggage fees."

Bruce smirked. "I will. Don't worry, Tony insisted on a gift. Of cash."

"Aren't all his gifts cash?"

"When they aren't new tech, yes."

Shanta pushed the door open a tentative crack. "Baba? Ma?" she whispered plaintively.

Both parents instantly ceased packing logistics at that tone.

"What's wrong, baby?" Natasha asked, picking her up.

Shanta's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Don't want to leave!"

Bruce winced slightly.

"Shanta, don't you miss India?" he tried.

Shanta sniffed. "Miss India but also gonna miss Lila and Christy!"

Natasha sighed. "I know, Shanta...I'm going to miss them, too. I'm going to miss Uncle Clint and Uncle Steve and Uncle Bucky. I love them. But in India, Baba and I do important things. We have jobs to do. We can't do them here."

Shanta considered this. "...I miss mangoes in India. But Ma, maybe my English go away!"

"It won't." Bruce assured. "We'll speak it every day at home and it will keep getting better. You already have improved so much from November, when we first came."

Shanta beamed at the compliment. "Thank you, Baba."

"Now look...go get your brother. Are you two packed?"

"Yes, all pack!"

"Then get Anish and tell him we're going to Olive Garden."

Shanta _squealed_ and ran out of the room in a flash.

Natasha shook her head. "Olive Garden. Of all the places. I cannot believe our _Indian _children enjoy Italian food so much."

Bruce shrugged. "They're allowed to like whatever they want. Besides, liking Italian food is hardly the strangest quirk in this family."

Shanta tore back in the room. "Baba, Anish want Cooper to come. Can he come? Lila, too?"

Natasha play-punched Bruce. "See what you started, dork?"

Bruce drew himself up. "I? I just gave Laura an out for not cooking dinner. You're welcome."

Natasha sighed, glancing at the pile of luggage. "...are we doing the right thing? We've done this twice now, and every time they get more and more attached to everyone."

"Nat...do you believe what you told Shanta?"

"I do…"

Bruce took her hands. "Then trust that we are doing the right thing. They're going to start at that nice international school, you're on as a counselor at Hope Center...we'll be fine. Promise."

Natasha squeezed his hand. "We're still running with it."

"Yeah...so far, so good. Wanna keep running?"

In answer, Natasha leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. "You know it."

* * *

On the whole, Cooper Barton was not terribly impressed with babies.

He had dealt with two of them firsthand, and neither had been especially wonderful. Lila had popped into the world when he was three years old, forever shattering any hope of a quiet house. Nathaniel had been quieter, but still fussed at night and made Mom and Dad more tired.

No, babies brought nothing but trouble.

But even he had to admit that Morgan Stark was cute.

She was laying on a blanket under Nathaniel's old portable mobile, kicking her legs and happily smiling.

Aunt Pepper was talking to Mom about something in the kitchen. Lila, thankfully, was out practicing archery with Dad. Cooper had assured Aunt Pepper that the baby was safe with him. He was eleven years old, after all. He could handle anything a _baby_ could dish out.

Nathaniel sat nearby, playing with Legos. He looked over as Morgan let out a little coo.

"She's noisy." he commented idly.

Cooper snorted. "So were you."

"I was _not_!" Nathaniel crossed his arms. He was a fairly good-natured child, but he didn't like criticism.

"Shh!" Cooper chided. "Well you _were_. Most babies are. They don't understand being quiet yet. But you were happy all the time, like Morgan is."

Nathaniel inched closer. Morgan stared up at the newcomer with big brown eyes.

"Hi Morgan!" Nathaniel chirped. "You're cute."

"She won't answer you." Cooper said knowledgeably. "She's not even babbling yet."

Nathaniel stuck his tongue out and continued talking to the baby. Cooper shook his head. From birth, Nathaniel had always been determined to do things his own way, even if an easier or more normal one was available. Dad said that was what they got for naming him after Pietro.

Morgan flailed her arms in Nathaniel's direction, happy at the attention.

"Boys? Is she okay?"

Cooper looked up and saw that Aunt Pepper and Mom were back in the living room.

Nathaniel beamed. "She likes me!"

Pepper laughed. "So she does. But she seems to like most everyone. Definitely has Tony's love of theatrics already."

Cooper frowned. "Mom? What do I have from Dad?"

Laura smoothed back her son's hair. "You have his steadiness. He doesn't do anything on emotion and neither do you. He thinks through things very deliberately."

Nathaniel jumped up to hug his mother. "And me?"

"You...you have his way of questioning the world. You always want to know why. But your smile is juuuussst like mine!"

Nathaniel giggled.

Pepper picked up Morgan and snuggled her. "I hope she takes after me in some ways. Right now, her looks are all Tony."

"Don't worry about it too much." Laura said comfortingly. "She'll have bits of you and bits of Tony and bits of things all her own. And one day, you'll look down at her and wonder how she got so big."

"I hope that doesn't come too fast." Pepper smoothed Morgan's baby-fine brown hair.

"It always comes faster then you like. But then you find new things to love at every stage."

"Mom." Nathaniel said, very serious. "Can I share a hot-dog with Morgan?"

Laura and Pepper looked at each other, trying not to laugh.

"Mm...I think she's a little small for a hot dog, honey. But you can help feed her."

Nathaniel nodded eagerly. "I can help! Because I'm a big boy now!"

Cooper looked about to challenge that statement. A look from Laura silenced him.

Pepper smiled. "Let me sit down with her, alright, Nathaniel? And then I'll show you how to feed her."

Nathaniel followed her like a puppy as she warmed up formula and settled herself on the couch.

"I don't know if you should hold her…" she said doubtfully.

"I'll be careful!"

Laura nodded confirmation, and moved to steady her younger son.

"Remember to support her head, Nate."

Nathaniel nodded seriously. "I remember, Mommy."

Pepper showed him how to carefully tilt the bottle. Morgan quickly latched and drank happily for several minutes, until Pepper took her to burp her.

"I did it, Mommy!" Nathaniel cried. "Can I feed her later?"

Laura patted his shoulder. "As long as Aunt Pepper says you can."

"Okay." Nathaniel leaned over. "We're gonna be best friends!" he whispered to the wriggling baby.

Cooper rolled his eyes but Pepper just smiled gently.

_You're a Stark, Morgan, but you're also a Potts. And Potts' never pass up good friends when they can get them._

* * *

Cassie Lang stood very still and tried to restrain the urge to ask questions.

This was very hard when she was surrounded by weird science. The weirdest of all was the van with glowing lights inside. Seeing her dad as Ant-Man wasn't weird anymore, though.

Dr. Pym stood at a black control box, muttering about how he'd been reduced to working out of a car.

Scott got out of the van and took a cylinder container from Hope.

Cassie didn't understand entirely what was going on, but she knew this was important.

"Okay, Peanut!" Scott said cheerily. "Ready to see me go subatomic?"

Cassie nodded. "I guess...as long as we can still get Mr. Frosty's after, like you promised."

Scott held up two fingers. "Scout's Honor."

Hope put her hand on her shoulder. "He'll be fine, sweetie. Here, stand back with me. He'll be back in no time."

Cassie stepped back with Hope and watched as her dad clicked on his helmet.

"Alright, Scott, going subatomic in three...two...one!"

Dr. Pym pulled a lever and Cassie watched open mouthed as her dad seemingly disappeared before her eyes.

Hope held her tight. "Just watch."

Within a few moments, Scott was back, beaming. The container in his hands was glowing.

"Healing particles secure!"

Dr. Pym nodded. "We'll probably need more eventually, but this should be enough for now."

"What'd ya think?" Scott asked, grinning at Cassie.

"Can I do that?" Cassie asked.

Scott looked mildly terrified. "Uh...Hope?"

"Maybe not this week." Hope said smoothly. "How about I teach you that new high-kick after we get ice cream, huh?"

Cassie nodded enthusiastically. "Okay!"

* * *

Thor leaned up in satisfaction and nodded to Heimdall. "Thank you, my friend. I am relieved to see that our friends are doing well." he gave a sad smile. "It has been too long."

"You could always visit." Loki pointed out.

Thor shook his head. "No. There is too much unrest. It seems as though there is a new conflict every week. And now with Father having just disappeared...I cannot understand where all this chaos comes from."

Loki gave a troubled frown. "I do."

"Oh?"

Loki sighed. "I have been researching. Does the word Ragnarok mean anything to you?"

Thor frowned. Heimdall looked extremely worried.

"The Twilight of the Age." Heimdall murmured. "It is upon us?"

"So it seems. It seems our best chance of stopping its coming lies in...something to do with Surtur the Fire Demon."

Thor looked mildly relieved. "So I can kill this problem?" he asked.

Loki shrugged. "Theoretically, yes. Do you even know where he is?"

Thor was already walking back towards the palace. "No, but I can certainly find out!"

Loki sighed deeply.

"It will not be as simple as that." Heimdall murmured.

He did not speak with a question, but with a fact.

"Do you see something?" Loki asked.

"I see many things, Odinson. Very few are good."

"Will you tell me?"

Heimdall gripped Loki's shoulder. "Too much foreknowledge is not good, even for a son of Frigga. But know this: dark days are ahead, for your family and for Asgard."

Loki nodded, staring into the swirling rainbow of the Bifrost.

"Why do you tell me this, and not Thor?"

Heimdall gave the tiniest hint of a smile. "Because this is not a problem you can hit with a hammer, my prince."

Loki laughed humorlessly. "He means well."

"Indeed. He has grown, and so have you."

Loki glanced away at the praise. "Midgard is a good place to learn lessons."

Heimdall almost spoke. But in the end, he settled for a nod.

_You will be learning more lessons on Midgard then you yet know, Odinson. There is storm is coming._

But for now, he would let the sons of Odin have hope. Perhaps all that he saw would not come to pass. There was still time.

* * *

****OMINOUS FORESHADOWING IS ALWAYS OMINOUS****

**And thus concludeth this tale. Next up: TO INFINITY AND BEYOND!**

**The story will be titled "We Didn't Start the Fire", and will be internally told in two parts. There are many plans in the works for it, and I can't wait to tell this story! I will see you all there. In the meantime, as always...**

**Reviews are wonderful things...**


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